In the Rain
by EllaShay.AP
Summary: Eponine is hopelessly in love with Marius, but Enjolras begins to see in her something that Marius never did, beneath the rags and suffering. His stone heart softens for her, because she is what his revolution is all about.
1. Without Him

**(A/N) Les Misérables has always held a soft spot in my heart. I have really always wanted to write a fan fiction for it, but my ideas were few and far between. Recently, though, I developed an affinity of sorts with Éponine, and I began to pity the suffering she underwent as she dealt with her love for Marius. I wondered what it would be like if she had the chance with someone else, and Enjolras seemed to fit the bill. I don't know where I am going with this or how it'll end, but I plan on remaining very true to the story (both the book and the musical). Thank you for reading.**

Éponine hurriedly pulled her fingers through her dark hair, trying to untangle some of the knots. Marius appeared and chuckled slightly. She jumped, not realizing that he was behind her, but did not turn away from the mirror.

"You know, 'Ponine, you really are very pretty." He smiled as only a friend could.

"Do not tease me, Monsieur," she said softly, knowing that he meant no true affection by his words.

Marius approached her as she struggled to tie a ribbon into her hair. "I don't tease, 'Ponine. You know me." He took the ribbon from her and laced it into her hair with a delicate touch. She hoped that he did not feel her shudder. He tied the ribbon in a neat bow and then gave her a little poke in the ribs. "It's _you _who always teases."

Éponine sighed.

"Where are you headed, dressed so pretty anyway?" Marius asked, gesturing to the faded green dress that she was wearing. It was the first time she'd had it on in months.

Éponine turned to him. "You'd laugh if I told you."

Marius put his hands on her shoulders. "I would never laugh, 'Ponine."

She looked down at her feet. "I'm not going anywhere. I just – wanted to pretend to be a lady for a moment."

Marius smiled. "You _are _a lady, and a beautiful one at that. I assure you. Even in your regular clothes."

Éponine felt the blood rising to her cheeks, but a sharp disappointment rose in her heart before her face had the chance to turn red. He did not love her, nor would he ever. She put on a fake half-smile, however. "Thank you Monsieur Marius. You are very kind."

"Only honest. Anyway, I just stopped in to say hello. I best be going." Marius said, turning for the door.

"Alright," Éponine murmured, turning back to her mirror. "To the café?"

"Yes. It's beginning to get exciting now, 'Ponine. Enjolras is beside himself. You should hear him speak these days."

Éponine shrugged. "I am sure he is as eloquent as ever."

"You're not fond of him. How come?" Marius asked.

Éponine took the ribbon back out of her hair, removing herself from her daydream.

"He seems to think he knows the woes of the poor, but how can he, truly? He preaches about things he knows nothing about." Éponine said.

Marius mulled this over in his head a moment. "I can understand that. But he does want to help."

Éponine smiled softly. "Help is appreciated. But only when the person doing the helping _knows _what it is he's helping with. Anyway, you said you had to go?"

Marius gave Éponine a final squeeze on the shoulder. "Take care, 'Ponine. Try to stay out of trouble."

Marius left and shut the door behind him. Éponine collapsed on her bed, not bothering to take the awful green thing off. Marius was so blind. He would never understand, would he? And then he was off, running off to those fire and brimstone sermons that Enjolras gave. The fools were trying to incite a revolution. Éponine didn't have the heart to tell them that the poor would not rise up behind them. They lived in fear, and really, what did a bunch of schoolboys know anyway?


	2. Streets Full of Strangers

Eponine awoke in the morning as the sun streamed in her tiny bedroom window. She was curled in a ball in her bed, still wearing the green dress as she had the evening before. She sat a moment, lost in thought of nothing in particular, and then dragged herself out of bed and took off the gown and replaced it with her usual mud-brown dress, scarf and hat. She pulled her shoes on and darted out of the door. The streets of Paris held more comfort than anywhere else for her.

She walked calmly down each back alley, even as people came out of the shadows, offering her rather shady wares or else men offing a bed for the afternoon. She knew better than to acknowledge any of it, and she kept moving with purpose. Her actual purpose, she didn't know, but it felt good to escape into her world instead of the world of Marius Pontmercy, even if only for a little while.

"Come here, darlin'. You're a lovely thing, out on the streets awful early!" A burly man reached for her, but she kept walking. She could smell the stench of liquor already on his breath, and it wasn't even midday. She was barely a few paces away, however, when the man latched onto her arm. She let out a little shriek, and tried to shake him off, but he was too strong.

"Let go of me! Let go!" She struggled violently, kicking and squirming, but he appeared almost too drunk to notice.

"Cummon, my pretty. We'll have a marvelous afternoon together!" He began to drag her back the way she had come, and toward another little alley that even she had never dared go near.

"Get off of me!" Eponine screamed now. The burly man chuckled but did not respond otherwise.

Suddenly a voice raised above hers. "You! Let go of that girl at once!"

The man stopped and turned around. Eponine stared in awe as she took in her defender. Red jacket, curly blondish-reddish hair, glistening blue eyes, clean and proper. A commanding voice that made even the most hardened stop to listen. Enjolras.

"Who the hell are you?" The burly man demanded.

"My name is none of your concern. However, if you do not release that girl, you will rue this day." Enjolras snarled in his strong voice.

The drunkard appeared confused. "What?"

Enjolras rolled his eyes impatiently. "Let her go."

"No."

Enjolras pulled a knife from beneath his red jacket. "I would advise you differently." He murmured and approached the man who still had a firm hold on Eponine's arm.

Enjolras ran the knife under the man's chin. "I will ask once more. Please let the woman go." He whispered in the most callous way, right in the man's ear.

"Alright, alright, fine!" The drunk released Eponine's arm and gave her a shove toward Enjolras. She didn't catch herself in time, and collapsed into him. He just barely whipped the knife out of the way before she hit the concrete. A moment later, Enjolras' arms were around her to pick her back up. She gave a little shrug and he let her go immediately.

She stood and looked him in the eye as he replaced his knife in his belt. "What the hell was that?" She demanded.

Enjolras gave her a look. "Maybe thanks are in order?"

Eponine nodded. "Maybe. Thanks."

"You're welcome. You know, it might not be in your best interest to linger about places such as this." Enjolras said.

Eponine sighed. "My life, monsieur, is of none of your concern." She gave a mocking curtsy and turned her back to him. She strode away in a flurry, ignoring Enjolras even as he called after her.

"Next time I won't be so willing to help, then!"


	3. I Have Never Known

"Marius, I saw your friend – Eponine, is it, today." Enjolras sat down next to Marius in the already crowded café.

"Yes, her name's Eponine. Where?" Marius asked.

"I was trying a shortcut through one of the more questionable areas of the city, and I heard a woman scream. I followed the sound and much to my surprise, there was Eponine being dragged off by a very drunk, disgusting man." Enjolras explained slowly, thinking back on the events himself.

Marius looked alarmed. "Is she alright?" He said frantically.

Enjolras nodded. "She's fine. I took care of it. Although she was – well, extremely rude after I saved her from that man."

Marius smiled. "That's just 'Ponine. She doesn't like to appear weak, and I suppose you caught her at a vulnerable moment." He paused to think a moment. "But now that I think about it, she's not exactly fond of you, anyway."

Enjolras looked surprised. "What, why?"

"Well, she thinks you preach about things you don't know. She's poor and she knows what it's like. She thinks that you're just another privileged schoolboy who's trying to start a revolution. She doesn't believe that you've ever really seen the real world – the streets."

_I suppose I haven't, except for today, _Enjolras thought to himself, but to Marius, he said nothing.

"Monsieur Marius, Monsieur Marius!" Gavroche, the little street urchin, came barreling into the café. "My sister is looking for you. She's outside."

Marius nodded. "Tell her to come inside."

Gavroche shook his head. "She says she won't."

"Why not?" Marius asked. "She usually does."

Gavroche gave Enjolras a sideways look, and then suddenly Marius understood. "Tell your sister that she can come inside if she wishes to speak with me. I am not chasing her around in the cold." Marius said, much more sharply than he intended. Gavroche trotted off. Marius hoped that his sharpness would not be transmitted in Gavroche's message.

"He has a sister?" Enjolras asked.

"Yes," Marius replied, just as Eponine came in the door, followed by Gavroche. Marius could feel Enjolras give pause beside him.

Eponine strode over to Marius haughtily, not looking at Enjolras at all. Her disdain for him was evident.

"Monsieur, I was in the neighborhood. I was curious to know if you would like a companion on the walk home." Eponine said hurriedly.

Marius thought for a second. "I'm sorry, 'Ponine, there's more work here to be done."

Enjolras stood, purely without thinking. The memory of Eponine struggling against that man in the alleyway played through his mind and he caught himself worrying for her. "If you need somebody to walk you home, mademoiselle, I'd be happy to accompany you."

Eponine scoffed. "No, thank you. I asked Monsieur Marius, as a friend. Not some charity-driven bourgeoisie such as yourself." She turned on her heel and marched for the door.

Marius stared at Enjolras for a moment, but Enjolras did not react. He tailed Eponine immediately and caught her lightly on the shoulder. She tried to shrug him away as she had done in the alley, but he didn't let her.

"I spoke to Monsieur Marius. He says you're not fond of me." Enjolras said as she turned to face him angrily.

"Oh? What ever gave you that impression?" She snapped.

Enjolras sighed. "He also told me why."

Eponine crossed her arms and Enjolras released her shoulder, no longer fearing that she would run. "What did he tell you?" She demanded.

"He said that you are not fond of me, because I am inciting a revolution without actually _knowing _what life in the streets is like." Enjolras explained. "And you're absolutely right, mademoiselle."

Eponine looked rather stunned. "What?"

"You're right. I don't know what life is like out there. Except what I saw when I ran into you this morning."

"Well, then maybe you should keep your revolutions to yourself." Eponine growled, turning on her fire once again.

Enjolras shook his head. "Show me," he said.

Eponine paused for a moment, appearing even more taken aback then before. "Show you what?"

"The streets. Allow me to see the way you live. Please, mademoiselle."

"Find someone else." Eponine turned and darted out the door before Enjolras could stop her. Only then did he realize that every man in the café had paused to watch his exchange with her.

Grantaire stumbled over to him, drunk off his bum as usual. "So you're got a girl!" He shouted and clapped Enjolras on the back. Enjolras stared at him, sighed, and walked back to his seat beside Marius.

"She really doesn't like you." Marius murmured.

Enjolras gave him a pointed look as the bartender handed him a beer. "No, never would have guessed." He snapped. Marius did not speak again.

Enjolras sipped his beer, thinking of nothing but the dirty, fiery girl that seemed to grab and hold his attention that night. Of course, he felt no important interest in her other than how she lived and why she hated him, but there was still something about her that made him curious. She could be useful to the revolution. If he could convince her that he wasn't as terrible as she thought, she could help him get the lower class to rise. She was right, of course. He was a bourgeoisie that knew nothing of the streets. How could he speak to them? With her help, he could appeal to every street urchin and beggar in Paris.

Yes, Eponine could be a valuable asset.


	4. In The Darkness

Eponine slunk down the same street she had been the morning that Enjolras had rescued her from that vial man. She watched her back a little more carefully now, and moved lithely. She had a feeling that there wouldn't be an Enjolras to save her this time.

She was wrong.

Just as she turned a corner, she spotted the red jacket that she had come to loathe. She turned on her heel, hoping to go unnoticed by him, but to no avail.

"Eponine, wait, please!" He cried after her, and a moment later, she heard his shoes slapping on the pavement as he jogged her way.

"Yes, Monsieur?" she said with mock sweetness as he approached.

Enjolras looked her in the eye. "I know you come this way. I wanted to speak with you." She opened her mouth to snap some rude retort at him, but he cut her off. "Please, please just hear me out."

"Go on." She said.

Enjolras dropped eye contact with her now. He was a man made of stone, but she could tell that he was trying to appear weak in order to grab her attention. It worked. She was curious.

"Once again, I am going to tell you that you were right about me. That I know nothing about how life is for people at the bottom." He murmured.

Eponine crossed her arms, just as she did, back in the café. "Yes?"

"I need your help. Please." The bright blue eyes were begging her. She felt a certain pity in her. He was writing his own death wish with his revolution, and even she didn't want to see him dead on the cobbles.

She shook her head. "I don't know what I can show you."

"You can show me how it's like to live on the streets."

"No, I really can't."

Enjolras was puzzled. "Why not?"

Eponine stared at him. "Have you ever had to sell yourself, Monsieur?"

"What?" Enjolras asked, taken aback.

"Have you ever been so desperate that you had to sell yourself? Your hair, your teeth," she paused for a moment, contemplating what to say. "Your body?"

Enjolras shook his head.

"Exactly," Eponine said, but there wasn't a hint of sharpness to her tone now, "That's life out here. It's not something you can see, it's something that you feel, every day. Shame and disgust with who you are and what you have had to do in order to stay alive. Monsieur, _that _is why I don't appreciate your revolution. You think, but you do not see."

Enjolras looked at her gravely, pity and heartbreak welling inside of him. _She _was the very reason he believed so firmly in the revolution in the first place, or at least people like her. The down and out, the broken and the starving. But he really did have no idea.

"Have you – had to do those things?" He asked her, hoping that she would not react badly.

She only nodded before she let her chin drop.

Enjolras reached a hand and placed it under her chin before he could stop himself. Her tears were welling up in her eyes, but he could see that she was fighting them back. For the first time, she did not shy away from his touch.

"Eponine, you mustn't be ashamed. You have only done what your life has forced you to. I do not look down upon you." He tried to smile, to comfort her in some way, but she just shook her head.

"Monsieur, I know you care, but to you and your friends, I am not a person, I am a downtrodden creature that needs your help."

"You are very much a person," Enjolras told her, but once again, she shook her head.

"You're not understanding me Monsieur Enjolras. Look at me for a moment. What do you see? A creature that needs your help. But beyond that, nothing. To you and your friends, I am nothing more than that. I am not a woman. Beneath the filth and these awful clothes, perhaps I could be something special too, but none of you would pause a moment and see me that way. I am not some pretty bourgeoisie girl. Not one of you would ever extend a hand to me in passion, or with love. Perhaps if I had makeup or those dresses or a bonnet, you might pause a moment, but look at me without them and I am nothing but a street urchin. A wild creature starving on the street."

"That's not true," Enjolras said, before he really thought about it.

"Oh?" Eponine inquired, "Ask Monsieur Marius."

Enjolras mulled this over in his head for a moment. "You really are fond of him, aren't you?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Well, let me tell you something, Eponine. He's a fool. If he can't see you for what you are in your heart, then he is absolutely the biggest fool I have ever known. You can find someone so much better, who is worth your time and your love." Enjolras had no idea where the speech came from. Perhaps he really was as good a speaker as they said. He had never said such soft things, but pity for this poor creature before him took over.

"I am not good enough for him." Eponine whispered, allowing her hardened self to truly break. She felt no reason to shield herself anymore, as Enjolras, too, had let down his walls. She could tell.

"I would take you to buy all those pretty dresses and makeups and bonnets right now if I thought it would help you Eponine." Enjolras said.

"I would never let you." Eponine replied softly.

Enjolras grinned. "Exactly! _That _is what is different about you. You're strong and willing to take care of yourself. You don't _want _to be doted upon. Marius doesn't see that as a positive thing, and for that, he is an idiot."

Enjolras's words were kind and they comforted Eponine for a moment, but still she felt the ache in her heart where she housed Marius' non-existent affections.

"Look at me, Eponine." Enjolras said, and she looked up, "To me, you're a woman, and a beautiful one at that." He reached and brushed a hair off of her cheek. She blushed slightly under his touch.

_What the hell are you doing? _Enjolras thought sharply. _Are you trying to crush her just as Marius does? _But somehow, the answer was no. He said what he did because that's what he felt. Eponine was the embodiment of everything he fought for, and somehow, watching her soften had, in a way, softened his own marble heart. He had never in his life felt anything for a woman, but perhaps it was because there was never one in his life so deep and unreachable. Eponine was strong and independent, wily and sharp, clever and cunning. She did not need to be held or caressed or have presents strewn at her feet. Every other woman Enjolras had ever looked at expected so much _attention. _It was disgusting. Eponine, however, was just as resilient as he was.

_Damn_, he thought. _Just damn._


	5. There's a Way for Us

Enjolras paced back and forth across his apartment, his thoughts running away with him. He held a letter in his fist, crumpled against recognition. It was from his father.

My son,

I am terribly disappointed in the path you have chosen to take with your life. You have disrespected me, your mother, and all the effort we put forth to raise you. I am ashamed to call you a son, and perhaps it would be better if we no longer communicated. Your mother feels that such a drastic measure is too harsh, but I believe that all of this anxiety for you is going to land her on her deathbed. I am writing to tell you that you are no longer permitted to contact us, including your sisters. None of us will have anything to do with you from this day forward.

Your Father

Enjolras couldn't keep his thoughts in a straight line. He should have expected this, knowing his father's opinion on his radical ideas, but it all still seemed so unfathomable. He now had no family, and his thoughts kept wandering to the face of the oldest of his younger sisters, Amédée. She would be sixteen in about a month. Enjolras felt as though he was abandoning her, as he had always been closest to her. He found himself in a world of men, but yet he had never felt any desire for any female companion aside from her. She was strong and quick-witted, and she always had clever advice for him when he was in a bind. The rest of his family, it seemed, was a necessary sacrifice for liberty, but having to accustom himself with the idea of no longer having Amédée in his life was almost impossible.

Just then, a knock came at the door.

"Come in, the door's open," Enjolras called, stowing the letter in his pocket.

Never in a thousand years would he have expected to see Eponine standing in the doorway, dark hair dripping. It must have been raining outside.

"Eponine." He said, her name coming to his lips before any other words.

"I'm terribly sorry to barge in unannounced, but I wanted to tell you that what I said the other day, I shouldn't have said. I put us both in an uncomfortable spot, and I need your word that you won't repeat any of it." She made strong eye contact with him, her hazel eyes locked on his.

He nodded. "Of course not."

"Thank you." She turned to leave, but as she did, Enjolras noticed her hands shaking.

"Wait, Eponine, you must be freezing." She turned back for a moment, but then looked away quickly.

"It is nothing I am not used to, Monsieur." Her hand landed on the doorknob.

Enjolras, despite his better judgment, said, "Eponine, please, come back inside. Warm up a little in front of the fire."

She turned around and stared at him. "I can't." She murmured after a moment.

"Why not?" He asked.

"I have – work to do." She said, "My father will be very unhappy if I go home with no wages." For the third time, she turned to go. Enjolras stepped toward her, one hand reaching for her shoulder and the other diving into his pocket. He held her for a moment as he pulled a five-franc piece out of his pocket. He offered it to her.

"Monsieur," she said, staring at the coin. A pained expression came to her face, and Enjolras realized suddenly his mistake.

"No, no, no, it's not like that!" He tried quickly, "You don't have to do anything. I just don't want to see you getting into trouble. But you're likely to catch your death if you go back out in this weather."

Eponine shook her head, "I cannot accept your charity, Monsieur."

Enjolras corrected her, "It's not charity. Look at it this way. It's a loan. You can pay me back however you see fit. I expect nothing." He smiled softly, wondering what the hell was coming over him.

She smiled. It was the first time she had ever done so in his company. He offered her the coin again and she took it slowly.

"Come in, Mademoiselle." He said, waving her into his apartment. She looked around, obviously not knowing what to do.

"I'll take your jacket," Enjolras noticed that the ragged thing she wore over her shoulders was dripping. He didn't expect that, even dry, it offered her much protection from the elements. She shrugged it off and handed it to him. He took it and hung it up next to the door.

"Sit, if you like. I'll make you a cup of tea."

Eponine walked over to the little sofa in front of the fire and sat down gingerly, as though afraid of breaking it. Enjolras hurried to the kitchen and poured her a cup of tea from the kettle that he already had prepared on the stove. It was a bit cold, but he was sure she wouldn't mind. He carried it back to her and set it in front of her on the little tea table. She gave a weak smile as thanks. He noticed she was still shaking. Without saying anything, he went to his bed and pulled the down comforter off. He slung it over his arm and carried it back to the sitting room. She looked puzzled.

"Here, wrap this around you. You're still cold."

She took the blanket as he offered it and wrapped it around herself. Her fingers lingered on it and she studied it for a moment. Enjolras expected that it wasn't what she was used to.

"Thank you, Monsieur," she said softly, "you're very kind."

She took the cup of tea gingerly in her hand and sipped. Enjolras sat down in a chair next to the sofa. She looked at him over her cup. Not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable, he picked up a book and pretended to read, but he couldn't focus, not with her sitting there.

There was something about Eponine that made his heart give pause. She had been through so much, and there was so much pain in her soul, but the flashbacks he was having to when he called her beautiful on the street were filled with no regrets. It was true. With a little care, she would really be a lovely girl.

"Monsieur?" Eponine murmured.

"Yes?" he asked, looking over the top of his book.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I still think that you are a fool." She said.

Enjolras almost smiled. "Somehow I thought so." He told her.

"All those men, though, they look to you. They'll follow you no matter what, I think." She tightened the blanket around her as she became more comfortable.

Suddenly it dawned on him. Her concern was for Marius, of course. It was a generally known fact that she was in love with him, as she often frequented the café just to say hello and look at him. Enjolras could have kicked himself, but he felt his heart sinking, just the smallest bit.

"I know they will. They truly are the finest friends a man can ask for." He said, trying to keep his thoughts on the conversation at hand.

"Aren't you scared that you might die?" She asked softly.

Enjolras shook his head. "Without a free republic, I have nothing in this life to live for. I would rather die fighting than live in a world in which the rich are stomping down on those who need aid." _Stomping down on you, _he thought.

"Well, Monsieur, I hope for your sake that your revolution goes the way you want." She told him, no joking in her voice.

"And I hope it does too, but not for me. For you."

Eponine looked at him with her hazel eyes. They glinted slightly in a longing sort of way. "You know," she said, looking away from him, "You're different than I thought before."

"How so?" He questioned.

"You care. You really, truly care."

"Of course I do." Enjolras told her.

"When I first heard you speak, I thought that it was just another bored bourgeoisie boy wanting to get his name in the history books. But now, from talking with you, I have come to know better." She said, and he could tell with the finality in her tone that the conversation was over. He gave her a little smile and picked up his book again. The next time he looked up, her head had fallen back against the sofa, and she was fast asleep. He didn't dare wake her. He watched her for awhile, observing the gentle contours of her face. She looked so much younger and healthier when she slept.


	6. Sometimes I Walk Alone at Night

Eponine woke, and for a moment, she did not remember where she was, but the warmth meant she certainly wasn't at home. The down blanket was still wrapped around her and a fire still crackled in the hearth. She noticed that new logs had just been added. Outside, the sky was dark.

_Damn it, your father is going to kill you, _she thought, but she made no move to get up. – she was so comfortable. Suddenly, everything dawned on her. She understood the animosity of the lower classes, but also the upper's unwillingness to let go. If she lived here, she wouldn't care about the poor either.

If she lived here…

Footsteps echoed somewhere behind her. She turned and saw Enjolras approaching, a fresh cup of tea in his hand. "You're awake," he said.

"Yes," Eponine looked at him, studying his face. She never really looked at him before, aside from when he was speaking to the men at the café. He was made of stone then, full of fury and determination. Here though, he seemed so much softer and more relaxed. A smile played at his lips.

"Is there anything I can get you?" He asked.

She shook her head. "No, merci, monsieur. But how long was I asleep?"

"A couple of hours. I would've woken you, but I thought you could use the rest. You looked so tired."

Eponine sighed. "My father won't be happy. I should be home."

Enjolras sat down next to her on the couch. He noticed faintly as she scooted away slightly. "Is your father ever happy?"

Eponine looked him straight in the eye. "No, not usually," she said solemnly.

Enjolras gave a weak smile. "I know the feeling," he murmured, and, as he thought about his father, his thoughts wandered, too, to Amédée, and suddenly he realized why Eponine intrigued him so much. As she looked at him, he saw a flash of his sister in her hazel eyes. Hers where sad and weak, but they held a cleverness and a deep intellect. Like Amédée, Eponine seemed to have the power of seeing through Enjolras, past his talk of revolution and his wild ideas of reform. She could see him for the foolish, young schoolboy that he was. Amédée could as well, and although she was gentler about what she felt, she also hadn't felt the sorrows that Eponine had. Perhaps, with the same upbringing, they would have been the same girl, but then, Enjolras thought, it was the streets that made Eponine into what she was.

"I should go," Eponine said, bringing Enjolras back from his thoughts.

"No, please don't," he grabbed her wrist as she began to climb out of the blanket. Something took hold of him. Amédée was no longer part of his life, which made him want to hold Eponine close, or else she would be gone, too.

"Pardon me, monsieur?" Eponine raised an eyebrow slightly.

"I know that you're afraid of upsetting your father, but you've already been here so long. What is more time going to amount to, really? It's still raining out. You'll catch your death." Enjolras felt as though he were pleading with her now.

"I thank you for your hospitality, Monsieur, but I truly must be going." She stood. Enjolras followed suit. She left the blanket sitting on the couch and went to collect her little threadbare jacket from the hook next to the door.

"Wait, Eponine," Enjolras said, and then disappeared into his bedroom. A moment later he returned, his red coat slung over his arm.

"Please, at the very least, put this on. It's too cold to be outside without proper clothes." He offered the jacket to her.

She took it, and as she pulled it over her shoulders, she murmured, "Thank you, Monsieur. Also, thank you for the money."

Enjolras shook his head. "Don't thank me. It's a loan, remember?"

She nodded. "Good evening to you, then." And she slipped out the door.


	7. When the Night is Over

Eponine slipped in the door of her family's apartment, praying that they were asleep. Luck, however, was not on her side.

"Where the hell were you?" Monsieur Thénardier, her father, demanded immediately.

"Working," she said passively. She took Enjolras' coin out of her pocket and handed it to him.

"5 Francs for all that time you were out? Damn, you're not a very good little whore, are you? Could help if you were prettier, I suppose." He pocketed the coin. Eponine tried to slip away from him, but then he noticed her jacket. "Where'd you get that?" He demanded.

Eponine shrugged. "A gentleman on the street saw me shaking on the corner and he offered me his coat. I accepted." Again she tried to turn away.

"Not so fast," Thénardier snapped. "Let me see the coat."

Eponine did not want to take it off, but she complied, knowing the consequences of refusal would be dire. Thénardier took it. He inspected it for a moment.

"This is a good coat. Wool. We could sell it for a fair bit."

"No!" Eponine said quickly, knowing that Enjolras would be expecting it back. She had rarely seen him without it.

Thénardier looked at her suspiciously. "And why not?"

"Because – because – because," Eponine tried, but no idea came to her.

"Where did you really get it?" Thénardier snarled.

Eponine sighed. "It belongs to a – friend of mine."

Thénardier chuckled wickedly. "The same friend that gave you the money, no doubt. Well look at the little brat, bedding with the bourgeoisie boy that she's so smitten with. Maybe that fool will take you off the streets, but I doubt it. To him, you're nothing but a little whore!"

Eponine knew that he was talking about Marius, and his words stung. Most insults didn't go past her skin, but one reminding her of Marius' lack of interest in her went directly to her heart. "Just please give it back," Eponine murmured.

"And what'll I get in return?" Thénardier demanded. "You barely earn your keep as it is."

"I'll earn double tomorrow." Eponine said quickly, already becoming ill at the thought. Enjolras' coin was a true gift. She rarely came home with so much after three days.

Thénardier bent down to her level and held his face inches from hers. "You had better, or there'll be hell to pay."

He threw the jacket at her. She caught it and slunk off to her bed before he could say anymore.


	8. A Dagger In Me

The next day, Eponine found herself standing among whores. She had no other option. Most days, she returned home with money she had pilfered off of unaware shopkeepers or out of gentlemen's pockets, but that wouldn't cover what she owned her father now. This was something she had done from time to time before, of course, but rarely. Her pride was too strong, and even in desperation she had always managed to find other ways to stay alive.

She felt disgusting as men walked by her, touching her, caressing her. She met no success however, when they asked her price. Most scoffed and moved on to younger, prettier girls. Not only was this work demeaning, Eponine found, but it was also painful to feel just how she was perceived. Ugly, unruly, undesirable.

"Good God, 'Ponine, is that you?" Marius' voice called to her out of nowhere. She turned her face away immediately.

"I do not know a 'Ponine', sir." She said sharply, trying desperately to disguise her voice. Marius, however, was not fooled. He approached and put a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him.

"Oh, 'Ponine, how has it come to this?" Marius asked.

She looked at the ground. "It has always been like this, Monsieur."

Marius froze completely. "What?"

"When you live on the streets, you do what you must." She said, looking up at him from beneath her dark eyelashes.

Marius opened his mouth to say something else, but Eponine cut him off. "Go, Marius. Just go."

He appeared stung. He stared at her, hoping that she would change her mind, that she would apologize, but she couldn't bring herself to. _Because Marius, you wouldn't save me from this hell._ But she felt no animosity towards him. His concern for her touched him deeply, but she also knew that it would go nowhere, as usual.

"Please, Marius." She murmured. He looked at her once more and walked away. After he turned the corner, Eponine collapsed into tears. She curled around herself right there on the street as her love walked away from her. All she wanted was for him to take her into his arms and hold her and protect her from the evils of the world, but that would never come to be and she knew it. She was so broken and lonely and lost.

Eponine managed to pick herself up off the street, but afterward, work was even slower. No longer did she even get passing touches. Eventually she gave up and trotted down the street to find more admirable work, or at the very least, more admirable for her.

A few pockets later, and she had a handful of coins, but barely enough to cover a quarter of what she owed her father. And what her father asked for, he got. It occurred to her that she could just let him have the jacket and tell Enjolras some story about how she had lost it, but somehow, she couldn't bring herself to steal from him. She swore to herself as she counted her money once more, just as the sun was setting and people were shutting themselves inside.

Eponine picked her way home, completely spent. She knew that the little money in her pocket would not please her father.

"Well?" Thénardier demanded the moment Eponine slipped in the door.

She handed him the money silently and waited for him to count it.

"The hell is this?" he demanded after a moment.

"All I could get," Eponine muttered.

Thénardier stared at her for a moment and then, completely out of nowhere, he threw the money back into her face. She jumped back, alarmed. A moment later, he was holding her by the collar of her dress, her back against the wall.

"You little whore can't even do that right!" He snarled. He slapped her across the face and then yanked her hands out of the way when she brought them in front of her to protect herself from another blow. His elbow met her ribs and she collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath. He landed a kick to her knees, and she scrambled to get up again. As she did though, he shoved her back to the ground. As she fell, she grappled for something to catch herself, but her hand met an exposed nail in the wall and tore through the flesh. Blood poured from the cut. Eponine pressed it into her dress and cowered away from her father, but he seemed satisfied. He spat on the floor in front of her and walked away. She crawled to her bed and pulled the jacket out from under the sheets where she'd hidden it. She held it close to her face, feeling the tears beginning to burn her eyes. She didn't even notice that her hand was bleeding all over it.

The next morning, Eponine awoke to an empty apartment. Her family must have already left to take part in their games of thievery. Eponine climbed out of bed, her entire body stiff and sore. She glanced in the standing mirror that stood at the corner of the miserable apartment and sighed. A bluish, purplish bruise spread across the left side of her face and she bet there were more under her clothes. She looked down at her hand, then, and saw that is was swollen and the gash ran from the heel of her hand, across her palm, to the bone of her pointer finger. She tried to close it into a fist, but the pain was excruciating.

The jacket still sat on the bed. Eponine noticed it and picked it up.

"Damn it!" She swore loudly. Spots of blood dotted the inside lining. Immediately, she went about trying to scrub it, and, mostly, the stains lifted, but there were still faint outlines of them. She hoped that Enjolras wouldn't notice when she returned it.

_All of this for a jacket? _She asked herself, but the answer was no. If it were just about the jacket, she would have let her father take it. It was unimportant to her. It was about returning the kindness offered to her by the man who let her wear it.


	9. He Was Never Mine to Lose

Éponine appeared in the doorway, holding the jacket in her arm. She smiled meekly, but Enjolras was too stunned to react. A great purple and yellow bruise bloomed across her face. He stared, and her free hand went to her cheek.

"Eponine, what's happened to you?" He asked, concern permeating his voice.

She smiled. "Oh, nothing. It was silly, really. It was raining and I was running down the street and I slipped and hit my head off of a step." She paused for a moment, thinking. "I have your jacket," she said as an afterthought, offering it to him.

He took it from her. "Come inside, Eponine," he said kindly, "I'll make tea."

She accepted gratefully, and as she stepped through the door, he placed a hand on her shoulder kindly to guide her. She jumped and winced. Enjolras looked at her curiously, but she offered no explanation. "Make yourself comfortable," he told her, and she settled herself on the couch, less warily than the last time she had been there. Enjolras hung up the jacket on the hook next to the door, but as he did, he noticed a little brownish-reddish stain on the yellow lining. He turned to Eponine.

"What happened to you?" He asked her, trying to be as gentle as possible.

"What?" She looked confused.

"There's blood on the inside of my coat." He pointed at the stain. She jumped up immediately and hurried over to him, her face flushed.

"Oh monsieur, I tried to clean it! I really did! I am so so-" Enjolras cut her off.

"Eponine, I don't care about the coat!" He snapped more harshly than he intended, but she stopped talking and stood silently. He softened. "I care about _you._"

She smiled softly at him. "Oh, monsieur," she murmured, "If only you knew."

"Knew what?" He asked.

She let her face fall, and as she did, her hair rolled off of her shoulders to reveal her shoulders, even more deeply bruised than her face. Enjolras looked at the marks for a moment, and then, without even thinking, he reached out to touch her, running the tips of his fingers against her mottled skin. She did not shrink away, nor jump. Enjolras leaned his face close to hers, and then, completely on impulse, bent down and pressed his lips against the bruise just below the curve of her neck.

This time, she did react. She let out a little squeak and jumped away from him. He straightened up immediately and looked at her, standing there, breathing hard and clutching her chest.

"Monsieur, I must be going." She said, making to pass around him.

The words stung him more deeply than he ever imagined possibly.

"Eponine, wait, please!" Enjolras cried, barring her way slightly. "That was foolish and disrespectful of me. Don't go!"

Eponine looked at him with as much disdain as she had when they began to speak. "No, Monsieur, I must go." She said sharply, and stormed out of the door. Enjolras stood there, watching her leave. He made no move to stop her – he was too stunned, but as she disappeared from his apartment, he could feel that she was disappearing from his life completely. He let himself drop to the floor, completely losing control of himself. He did not shout, or weep, or do much of anything, he just lingered there, staring at the closed door as though waiting for her to come back.

But she never did.


	10. Drink with Me

Grantaire shook Enjolras awake. He still lay exactly where he'd let himself collapse when Eponine slipped away.

"Enjy, what are you doing?" Grantaire asked as Enjolras came to. Enjolras caught the distinct scent of liquor on his friend's breath immediately.

Enjolras looked at him, barely wanting to get up. "Apparently, I am sleeping." He replied sharply. He then stood and brushed himself off. Grantaire's eyes followed him as he did.

"Well, I knew that much," Grantaire snapped indignantly, "My chief question is _why."_

Enjolras had no smart comeback. He just looked at Grantaire, mulling over what he should say. He thought back to Eponine, the way she so flatly rejected him, and felt a rush of pain pour into his heart. Never before had he been so affected by a woman, aside from Amédée. He didn't even know such feelings existed. His face must have shown some sort of expression, because Grantaire clapped him on the shoulder.

"Enjy, what's got you down?" He asked, a playful smile on his face, as though nothing in the world was anything more than a joke. In a way, Grantaire's way of living was so much better than Enjolras', because nothing ever got to him.

Still, Enjolras said nothing, so Grantaire answered for him. "The girl." He said pointedly.

Enjolras gave pause. "How do you know?" He couldn't remember ever mentioning Eponine to Grantaire before.

Grantaire grinned and wobbled over to the couch, the same one that Eponine had been sitting on before. "Listen, Enjy," he put his feet up on the tea table as Enjolras approached and sat down in his chair, "You are difficult to read, but uh, you're also my best friend. You think I don't pick up on things. I'm not completely stupid!" He added the last bit as almost an afterthought, shouting it in a way that only a drunk man could.

"But I never –" Enjolras began, but Graintaire cut him off.

"You never talked about her. You never talked to her around any of us. Don't matter. I could see you light up every time Marius mentioned her or she walked into the café." Grantaire looked at him, concern permeating his drunken eyes, but then suddenly, it went away. He jumped up off of the couch again and said, "Got any wine?"

Enjolras nodded.

Grantaire hobbled his way to the kitchen. There was much clanging of cupboards and pans, and at one point, a shatter of glass, but Enjolras felt no motivation to go and see what had happened. He simply sat on the couch, staring at the empty hearth, his mind wandering back to the time when he'd tossed logs on the fire, trying to be as quiet as possible, so as not to wake the sleeping Eponine.

Eponine.

He imagined her for a moment, not in her rags, but in a gown and hat that he'd purchased for her, with her hands wrapped around his arm. She smiled at him, and he made a joke. She seemed so happy in his mind, but he knew that reality was sick and twisted and that nothing would ever come to be like that. Eponine had dashed out of the door into the cold late-autumn air without so much as a look back.

Grantaire returned with two glasses filled improperly to the brim with wine and handed Enjolras one. "For your troubles," he said before taking a long swig that exhausted about half of his glass.

Enjolras eyed his own glass for a moment, and then looked at Grantaire, swaying slightly, but altogether, relatively pleased with his life. He didn't have a care in the world. Perhaps it wasn't so bad to be drunk all the time. Enjolras followed Grantaire's example and swallowed the wine, drinking more in one gulp than he typically allowed himself during an entire meal.

It didn't take long for Enjolras' entire world to grow fuzzy. He and Grantaire laughed the night away in a haze. There was no pain, nor worries, and the next morning, Enjolras awoke, his feet on the sofa and his back on the floor. Grantaire was drooling, his head tilted back, wedged in a knot into the armchair. Enjolras felt as though he'd been hit in the head with a brick.

He climbed back onto the couch and fell asleep again.


	11. His Arms Around Me

Eponine hid herself from the world for several weeks. She did not do anything outside of the tasks assigned to her by her father, and she saw nobody but her family. The world grew so large and lonely without Marius and the café, but she couldn't bare to face _him _again, even to explain.

Eponine shut the apartment door behind her, ready to get to her work for the day – some pockets needed to be picked, some wealthy needed to be made less so, but as she turned to leave the building, she plowed full-on into Marius. He stood there, outside of his own apartment door, just across from hers.

"Oh, Monsieur Marius, I am so sorry!" Eponine said quickly, taking a step away from him.

"No, 'Ponine, don't fret." He looked her up and down and smiled. "I've missed you!" He wrapped her into his arms immediately, and then murmured into her hair, "Have you been avoiding me?"

She didn't want to leave his embrace. He was so warm and, as she buried her face into his chest, his smell filled her with happiness. "No, I haven't." she told his chest.

"No?" he asked, holding her still.

She shook her head against him.

Marius pulled away the hug first, and Eponine could barely hide her disappointment. As she looked into his face, she suddenly realized just how hard it had been to stay away from him for so long. She used to go to the café just to look at him and perhaps exchange a few words. It helped her get through the cruel monotony of her daily life, yet as of late, she didn't even have that.

"So where have you been?" Marius asked.

She shrugged. "Very busy, Monsieur. My family must have food for winter, which makes my work all the more demanding."

Marius studied her face. "you're not – doing those things again, are you?" He questioned carefully, thinking back to the time he had run into her in the alley.

"No, monsieur, nothing like that." She almost added "nobody finds me attractive enough to pay," but she stopped herself.

He smiled. "I'm glad. You're better than that, 'Ponine. So, where are you off to?"

"More work, monsieur." She replied.

"Oh," Marius' face fell, "I was hoping that you were just going out. I wanted some company for a walk."

Eponine felt her heart jump happily. "You want to go on a walk, Monsieur?"

Marius nodded. "Would you accompany me?"

It had been a long time since Eponine smiled, but she didn't realize it until now. She grinned happily, like a little girl. "I would love to," she said.

The pair walked together through the snow-covered Parisian parks, chattering aimlessly. Eponine found herself swimming in a warmth so beyond what the winter wind could kill. She hung on Marius' every word as he spoke to her, and every time he asked her a question, she answered excitedly.

"I'm glad you're here, 'Ponine," he said at one point.

"I am glad you are here, too, Monsieur." She replied kindly. She felt herself longing to take his loose hand into her own, but quite a picture they would make, the bourgeoisie boy and the urchin girl. Instead, she just looked at his face as they traipsed through the city, crossing park after park, as though the cold winter wasn't really there. Eponine's heart belonged to him, she knew. Every movement he made, every little quirk, from brushing hair off of his forehead to fiddling with the buttons on his coat, she loved. She felt her heart beat faster every time he looked at her, and, if he should so much as brush his arm against hers, she stopped breathing for a moment.

Marius brushed off a park bench with the sleeve of his coat and the two of them sat for awhile, watching the world go by.

"We should go to the café for something warm to drink." Marius said offhandedly.

Eponine paused. She didn't know quite what to say. "Monsieur, must we? It's always so loud with all those men."

Marius looked at her quizzically. "You used to come all the time. It never bothered you before."

She shrugged. "Je ne sais pas." _I don't know._

"You know, Enjolras asks about you from time to time." Marius told her. She could tell from his voice that he wasn't implying anything, simply stating a fact.

"Oh, why?" Eponine asked, trying to act as though she knew nothing.

Marius appeared to believe it. "I'm not sure. I think he is just surprised to not see you around so often. I know you don't like him, 'Ponine, but I hope his speeches aren't the reason you don't come anymore."

Yes, he really was clueless. That was positive, at least. It meant that Enjolras was keeping the whole situation as hushed as she was. "No, it's not the reason," she told Marius, and he didn't press her anymore.

Eventually, Marius walked Eponine back home. He embraced her at the door, and for the second time, she found herself wishing that he would never let go, but eventually, he did, and she went inside. She pressed her ear to her front door, waiting to hear his shut and latch, before slipping back out and onto the streets. The hour was still early and there were many people with sizable pocketbooks still out and about.

She returned home that night with a jingle in her pocket and a spring in her step from her outing with Marius that still hadn't worn off.


	12. A World About to Dawn

Enjolras sat at the bar with the men. Everyone was laughing, but his mind was on more important matters. A map of Paris was spread in front of him on the counter. He made Xs and arrows across the page, with notes and figures and numbers in the margins. He was meticulous, trying to plan out his revolution on paper well before he really put it into action. Giant stars marked where he would begin speaking publicly when the spring came.

"Enjolras!" Joly cried, sloshing his beer wildly in the air.

Enjolras turned, and every man was grinning at him. Grantaire looked particularly pleased. "What?" he demanded irritably. He had work to do.

Courfeyrac laughed. "You're all mad! I'd be happy to give you a lesson, though, Enjolras!"

Combeferre chuckled brightly, and Grantaire took another swig of alcohol. Enjolras rolled his eyes and tried to turn back to his work, but an equally intoxicated Lesgles shouted, "Oh come on Enjolras! Tell us!"

"Tell you what?" Enjolras shouted, but he got no response. The group continued to shout "you're mad!" and "Enjolras? No!" and "When Grantaire stops drinking, I'll say differently!"

Enjolras turned again to his work. His pen, for a moment, lingered on the map over the little alley where he'd run into Eponine all that time ago. He remembered primal instinct taking him that day – a strange desire to protect her, even though he barely knew her at all. It wasn't until much later that he realized the reason was her uncanny similarities to Amédée.

Amédée. Enjolras felt a stab of pain as he realized that he'd forgotten her birthday. It wouldn't have done him any good to remember, but still, he felt guilty.

Just as his thoughts began to wander, Courfeyrac's arm was around him.

"Come on, 'Jolras," he jeered, "Tell us, is there a special lady in your life?"

Enjolras' thoughts jumped straight to Eponine, but he shoved the idea away immediately. Eponine was a closed book, a closed chapter of his life. "No," he replied sternly, "my only mistress is my country."

The men paused for a moment, taken aback by his sternness, but as is always the case with drunken men, the quiet did not last long. The gaiety picked up again and they went back to their alcohol induced jests. Enjolras murmured under his breath, "Patria," and returned to his work, but his thoughts again began to stray. He gave up, folded the map and shoved it into his pocket. With a nod to the rest, he walked out of the café, disgruntled.

_Eponine. You're a fool for seeing anything in her, for letting her get in your way. There is a higher cause, one that deserves your utmost attention. Let her go. You know she's not coming back._

All these truths locked themselves into Enjolras' heart at once, and he felt his old stone wall rebuilding itself. Suddenly, no thought of Eponine could distract him, nor one of Amédée, because what had come to pass had all happened for a reason, to push him in the right direction – the direction of revolution. He could see it now, the people of France rising up against the tyranny of the French monarchy. The king would disappear off into the distance and the people would fight for freedom in a flurry of red, white and blue.

_Vive le République! _He thought, and a sudden fire rose inside of him that he thought he'd lost some time ago. Eponine was nothing now. France was truly his mistress, and he would raise her up above all that dared try and push her into the mud.

"Vive le République!" he shouted out loud, for nobody but himself to hear on those cold, snowy Parisian streets.

Passion rose in place of pain, and Enjolras was whole again.


	13. Good God, 'Ponine

A month or so ticked by uneventfully. The winter raged on, growing colder as the days went by, but Eponine was resilient, and it didn't stop her from doing her work. She made a good living now for her family with her quick wit and her light fingers. She would come home practically every night with at least two loaded wallets, much to her father's pleasure. He had started treating her better, pleased with her work. He would try and hold conversations with her from time to time, and his abuse lessened. She was grateful for that.

Grateful, too, was she for the frequency with which Marius sought out her company. Almost every other day, he would tap lightly on her door, quietly enough that the rest of her family passed it off as creaking floorboards, but Eponine would be up and out before anybody could say a thing. She and Marius would wander around the city together, laughing all the while. The two of them as a pair drew strange looks, but Marius ignored them, so Eponine learned to, as well. For the first time, Eponine began to feel something she had not known in many years – hope.

That particular day, Eponine did not plan on seeing Marius. He had said that he would be at the café all day, working. He invited her to go along, of course, but she refused, as was to be expected. Marius still sometimes questioned her refusal to go to the café, but his inquisitions lacked any real concern, so she got away with vague answers.

Eponine held her head down against the winter wind as she made her way down the street. A crowded market stood a few blocks down, filled with people bartering for whatever meats they could. Winter in Paris was a time of famine, as there was little or nothing to go around. Eponine watched as beggars pleaded at the feet of the more wealthy. Eponine slunk toward a particularly well-off looking man. She watched as she removed his wallet from his pocket and purchased a piece of meat from a vender who looked unlikely to make it through the day in the cold. He replaced the wallet in his overcoat, and Eponine crept behind. A moment later, with a quick dash of her hand, the wallet was in her possession, but before she could stow it away, the man turned and spotted it. He let out a terrible yell as Eponine bolted.

"Police, police! Pickpocket!" He pointed in her direction, and immediately, two or three police officers were following her on foot as she ran. She darted down back alleys and took random turns, but the footsteps of her pursuers never seemed to die. Ahead of her, though, was a safe heaven. The café.

Or was it a hell?

She didn't pause to think, she just darted in the door in a flurry and slammed it shut behind her.

Enjolras looked up at the sound of the door slamming. He was stunned to see her – Eponine – standing there, breathing hard.

Marius approached her immediately. "Eponine, what's the matter? Are you alright?" he asked frantically.

"Police," she murmured roughly between breaths. Marius took her under his arm just as a pair of officers burst in the door.

"The girl, where is she? The one that just came in here," the first one said. The second spotted Eponine and pointed.

"You there, girl, you're under arrest," the second police officer approached her, but Marius barred his way.

"There must be some mistake, Monsieurs," Marius looked at the officer desperately.

The officer shook his head. "No, no mistake. She is a thief."

Eponine stood in the corner, barely showing any fear, but every man knew what would happen to her should she go to jail. Most likely, she would not live through the experience, as thin and underfed as she already was.

The pair of officers marched around Marius, who stood there, defenseless as they each grabbed hold of Eponine and dragged her for the door. She struggled for a moment, but was quickly overpowered. In that moment, Enjolras stood.

"Monsieurs, wait, surely there must be something I can do. After all, she is my sister." Enjolras said, gesturing at Eponine, "I cannot just let her be taken away."

The first officer shook his head. "She is wanted by the law. I cannot do anything."

Enjolras walked over to him, hands in the pockets of his red coat. "I'm sure I can persuade you, sir, if I could only speak with you in private for a moment."

The officer anxiously looked at his partner, who nodded. The first let go of Eponine and followed Enjolras into the corner of the café.

"My sister is a bit deranged. I am sorry that she has caused you trouble, but surely this will persuade you," Enjolras pulled a few coins out of his pocket. "For your trouble, Monsieur," he said kindly. "

The police officer stared at the coins, uncertain of what to say or do. He contemplated for a moment, but then nodded. Enjolras turned the coins into his outstretched hand, and the officer ordered the other to release Eponine. The second did as he was told, but a touch roughly. He gave Eponine a shove and she fell to the ground. She made no move to stand again until the two officers had tipped their hats to Enjolras and departed.

Eponine scrambled to her feet. Marius grabbed her in his arms and said a few things in her ear, to which she nodded irritably. Enjolras, just by watching, could tell that she was eager to leave. As soon as Marius released her, she made for the door, but before she left, she turned to Enjolras and said, "I am much obliged, Monsieur."

He nodded once. "Don't mention it," he told her. He expected her to leave, but she didn't. She simply stood there and watched him. He grew irritated quickly – more quickly than was usual for him. He turned to her and snapped, "you've caused enough trouble here today. It's time for you to go."

"_Excuse me, _Monsieur Enjolras?" she growled, striding over to him forcefully.

"Yes, Mademoiselle –" he fumbled for a moment, looking for the name.

"It's Thénardier. Mademoiselle Thénardier," she snapped at him.

The name rang a bell. "Thénardier?" he inquired.

"Ah, you do know the name! 'Stay away from those Thénardiers,' they say. And they are very right. My father is a crook. My mother is a beggar and a cheat, and I, I am a whore." She said this all softly enough that only Enjolras heard. There was a wicked hatred in her tone.

"Eponine-" he began, but she cut him off.

"I have no interest in your sentiments, Monsieur." She told him harshly, "I thank you for your service, although I do not know why you did it."

Enjolras did not have an answer for this, but before he could come up with something to say, Eponine was out the door, away down the street. Sitting at his feet was a wallet. He picked it up. Inside was about ten francs, a comfortable sum for a pickpocket. He didn't know whether she dropped it intentionally or by accident.

Grantaire gave him a look. Enjolras shrugged. He felt no desire to follow Eponine. None of his old affection remained for her, and she'd further solidified those feelings today with her temper.

In a way, he was glad she was gone.


	14. A Bourgeois Two-a-Penny Thing

Eponine heard a woman's laugh in the hall. She opened her apartment door, curious, and to her dismay, saw Marius hand in hand with a slender blonde woman wearing a bonnet and a lovely dress. Marius caught sight of Eponine and waved.

"'Ponine!" he cried happily, "Come meet my dear friend Emmanuelle!"

Eponine slipped out of her door and approached, suddenly very conciuous of what she was wearing. "Bonjour, mademoiselle," she said kindly with an attempt at a curtsie.

Emmanuelle looked her up and down. "Bonjour," she said. Eponine noticed that she raised her nose just a little higher in the air.

Marius put an arm around Eponine. "Emmanuelle, I've told you about 'Ponine. She's my very dearest friend!" Marius looked so pleased, standing between the two women, the first in a gown fit for a queen and the second, in rags.

Emmanuelle did not say anything.

"Well, Emmanuelle and I were just about to go to the Opera," Marius told Eponine.

"That sounds exciting," Eponine said, trying to fake a smile, however she was stung.

"Yes, _very _exciting," Emmanuelle drawled, "But Marius, we must be going, don't you think?"

Marius smiled. "Yes, my dear." Eponine felt a stab at her heart from the affection in his voice. She'd never even _heard _of Emmanuelle before, and all of a sudden, she was "my dear"?

Marius added as an afterthought, "I was just thinking, maybe 'Ponine, would you like to come with us?"

Eponine stared at him, incredulous. Emmanuelle's jaw visably dropped. "I have nothing that I could wear, Monsieur, but thank you." Eponine told him sweetly. Emmanuelle looked relieved.

"Oh, I'm sure Emmanuelle has something she could loan you, don't you my dear?" Marius looked at her pleadingly.

Emmanuelle didn't bother to hide her dissatisfaction. "I _suppose _I can find something old in my closet. I mean, mademoiselle, you are of a larger size than me, but I must have _something." _Marius looked at both the women's wastelines, and appeared confused, but he said nothing.

Eponine sighed. "I would love to go," she said after a second, and was pleased to see Emmanuelle's face fall, "just let me get my jacket."

Eponine slipped back inside her apartment, and took her jacket off of her bed. Nobody else was home, as was usual. She didn't know what to feel at that moment. Marius in the company of that awful woman pained her, especially seeing how pleased he was to have her around, yet he still demonstrated that he enjoyed Eponine's company. She felt tears welling in her eyes, but she forced them back and shrugged her jacket on. She was just about to leave again when she heard the raised voices in the hall.

"What are you _thinking, _Marius?" Emmanuelle snapped, "She won't know how to behave. She'll embarrass us in front of our friends!"

Marius' voice sounded annoyed. "If there is anyone in the world who knows how to act, it's Eponine. She can handle any situation with grace." Eponine was flattered at the little compliment.

"What will everyone think?" Emmanuelle demanded.

"Joly, Grantaire and Enjolras all know her, and none of them has a bad word to say about her." Marius retorted, and Eponine felt her stomach sink. Enjolras was going? She tried to think of an excuse to give Marius so she didn't have to go, but she could think of nothing that he couldn't counter.

"They'll all have dates, Marius! She will have no escort!" Emmanuelle shouted. "It's improper!"

"We'll figure something out, I'm sure. Eponine is coming, and that's final." Marius told her firmly. Emmanuelle did not reply. For a moment, Eponine felt herself more stung than before. Enjolras would have a date. She didn't know why she cared – the man disgusted her, didn't he? But somehow, it bothered her deep in her heart. She shoved the thought away and stepped out the door.

The trio made their way to Emmanuelle's home, only a few blocks down. She was slightly older than Marius, and she lived with her brother, who mostly let her do as she would. Inside, it was warm and frilly. Eponine found herself feeling enormously uncomfortable. The only other upperclass apartment she'd been in was Enjolras', and his seemed so much more welcoming.

"Come with me," Emmanuelle growled, grabbing Eponine's hand and dragging her into the bedroom. Emmanuelle began to dig through her wardrobe, scooting gown after gown aside. Eventually, she pulled out a powder blue dress decorated with silver beads and ribbon. Eponine looked at it a moment, finding it much too gaudy, but Emmanuelle said, "this one will do," and thrust it at Eponine. "Get dressed." She snarled.

Eponine didn't even know where to begin. There were ribbons and ties and buttons and sashes all over the dress, and she had no idea which went where.

"Pardon me, mademoiselle, but I have never worn anything so complex as this." Eponine said, trying not to sound too stupid.

Emmanuelle sighed and wretched the dress back from her. She undid some of the buttons and laces. She ordered Eponine to undress, and then helped her into the gown. There was much tugging and pulling, but eventually, Eponine felt Emmanuelle pull the dress into its final resting place.

"It'll take more than that to make something special out of you," Emmanuelle growled, grabbing a comb off of her vanity. She yanked it through Eponine's hair violently, pulling out the knots, but then she knotted it again strategically around Eponine's head in an elegant braid. Eponine glanced at her reflection in the mirror and began to feel like a real lady for the first time in her life. Her memory flashed back to the time that Marius had caught her pretending, standing in front of the mirror wearing her ragged green dress. Her father had long since sold it.

A moment later, Emmanuelle was dabbing powders and creams onto Eponine's face, the smells of which were repulsive, but Eponine did not react.

Shoes, gloves, a hat and a woolen overcoat followed. Emmanuelle handed Eponine a little beaded bag in which she stuffed her old, ragged, threadbare clothes. She stepped out of Emmanuelle's bedroom, and Marius stared.

"'Ponine, you look absolutely stunning!" He cried. She smiled brightly, almost daring to believe him.


	15. Am I Forgiven Now?

Enjolras, Joly and Grantaire stood waiting for Marius at the restaurant. Joly and Grantaire both had a lady on their arm. Joly, his long-term girlfriend Sophie, a dark-haired little thing that never seemed to quite know what was going on. Grantaire, a red head named Céline that he had met just the night before. Enjolras, however, stood alone.

"Ahh, here they are," Grantaire said happily as Marius approached, but to everyone's surprise, he had not one woman with him, but two.

Enjolras' heart sank when he saw Emmanuelle. They had history. Or else, she had history with him, anyway. He'd rejected her some months before, and his disinterest had somehow incurred in her a desire to convince him otherwise.

"Oh, Monsieur! Apollinaire, it is excellent to see you!" Emmanuelle's use of his first name annoyed him, but he did not acknowledge it.

"A pleasure," he murmured, and then turned his attention to Marius' second girl. His heart almost stopped, as, for a moment, he thought it was Amédée, his beloved sister standing before him, but the contours of her face were slightly different. Suddenly, it dawned on him.

"Mademoiselle Thénardier," he said as a greeting. A sudden discomfort rose over him, but she took everything in stride. "Monsieur Enjolras," she replied, giving him a curtsy. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, dressed so beautifully. She was absolutely radiant.

"You look marvelous, Mademoiselle," he told her. She smiled warily.

"Well, should we get inside, then?" Joly asked.

Eponine's face flushed. "You did not tell me, Monsieur, that we would be eating," she said to Marius.

Marius smiled and gave her a shoulder a little squeeze. "It's my treat."

Eponine opened her mouth to argue, but Emmanuelle cut in as they walked into the warmth of the restaurant, "Eponine, darling," she said, much too sweetly for comfort, "It must be so uncomfortable for you to not have an escort."

Marius looked at Eponine, "Oh, goodness, I forgot." He looked at each of the men holding their arms out for their dates, but then his eyes stopped on Enjolras.

"'Ponine, would you mind?" He asked her. She raised her eyebrows, not understanding. He nodded his head in Enjolras' direction.

"I think I'll be alright on my own," she replied kindly.

"But it's _so _improper," Emmanuelle whined.

"Enjolras, would you mind being Eponine's escort for the evening?" Enjolras stared at him for a moment, but he nodded, "I would be glad to." He honestly had no desire at all, but he extended his arm politely for Eponine anyway, and she did the proper thing and took it. They did not make eye contact.

The dinner went by uncomfortably for Eponine. She ate sparingly, and was seated between Marius and Enjolras. The former kept his hand on Emmanuelle's waist as he talked amongst his friends, and the latter seemed irritable and frustrated, barely speaking to anyone at all. Eponine rarely engaged in the conversation, as it revolved mostly people she did not know and places she had never been.

As they left, she took Enjolras' arm again. He again did not look at her.

"Monsieur?" she said, barely thinking. She just wanted the discomfort of the whole event to go away.

Enjolras turned to her, those clear blue eyes studying her face that was not her own, covered in make-ups and powders as it was. "Yes?" he questioned as they followed the rest of the group down the street toward the Opéra.

Eponine thought over her words carefully, unsure of what to say. "I'm sorry," she settled on finally.

"For what?" he questioned.

She sighed. "Everything that I put you through. I was so unkind."

Enjolras shook his head. "It's alright, really. All is well."

Eponine looked at him. His blue eyes were sharp and no longer held her in a kind light. His lips curled into a frown.

She gave his arm a squeeze. "Do you remember that time that I fell asleep on your sofa?"

He nodded cautiously. He didn't _want _to remember.

"And how you gave me your jacket when I left?"

Again he nodded.

"That was the kindest anybody had ever been to me," she said, thinking back. She didn't know why she was saying it, but she felt as though he needed to know.

"Some thank you I got," he murmured.

She sighed. "Again, I am sorry."

"It's over with," he told her.

She opened her mouth to respond, but the group was arriving at the opera. The ladies fussed over their jewelry and gloves for a moment before the gentlemen escorted them inside, but as soon as they entered, Eponine found herself in a whole new world of gilded ceilings and red carpeting. She stared around, taking in everything from all the gowns around her to the paintings that adorned the walls.

A harsh whisper came into her ear, "You shouldn't gawk." Emmanuelle growled, and Eponine pulled herself together. She took Enjolras' arm as gentlemen that she had never met came over to the group to say hello. Marius smiled and chuckled at some joke made by a little old white-haired man who was shadowed by his equally aged wife. The woman walked over to Enjolras.

"You've grown, Apollo!" she said happily. Enjolras shifted uncomfortably. The old woman continued. "And who is this lovely creature with you tonight?" She asked, her eyes falling on Eponine.

Eponine moved to introduce herself, but Enjolras replied more quickly. "This is Mademoiselle Eponine Thénardier. She is keeping me company this evening." He said all of this stiffly, but the woman didn't appear to notice. Eponine however, did.

"Eponine, would you like something to drink?" Enjolras asked her, trying to feign politeness. She smiled and gave a little nod. He walked off, leaving her outside the circle of the group with the woman.

"So, how do you know my dear Apollinaire? I've been friends with his mother for many years."

Eponine didn't quite know how to answer. "Oh, he's a friend of a friend." She said quickly.

The woman looked disappointed. "Shame. We've been wondering when he would settle down. I was hoping-" but she didn't finish the thought. Joly appeared and caught Eponine by the arm. "We best get to our seats. Where's Enjolras?"

"Getting something to drink, I believe," Eponine replied. It was only then that she noticed that their group had also lost Emmanuelle. Sophie held Joly's arm tightly, and Céline was swooning over something that Grantaire was saying. He wasn't particularly drunk this evening. Marius, however, was completely alone. Eponine approached him.

"Where's Emmanuelle?" she asked, trying to sound curious.

Marius shrugged. "She said she was headed to the ladies' room, but I somehow doubt it."

Eponine raised an eyebrow like she always did. "What do you mean?"

Marius sighed. "Enjolras is gone, and so is Emmanuelle. The two of them have some history, and I'm not sure it's completely finished."


	16. All The Lights

Enjolras was walking back toward his friends with two glasses in his hands – a little scotch for himself and a water for Eponine, when a hand closed on his shoulder. He turned, instinctively wary to find Emmanuelle standing there, batting her eyelashes wildly.

"Can I help you?" Enjolras said, trying to keep his voice even. The mere sight of the woman made him uneasy.

She smiled wickedly. "I was wondering the same thing." She reached a finger out to him and twirled a lock of his golden hair. He stepped back.

"I have to get Eponine her drink," Enjolras tried quickly, but to no avail.

Emmanuelle caught his collar in her hand. "Oh, who cares about that street urchin?"

"I do," Enjolras snapped at her, although he wasn't sure that he meant it. He supposed he did at some point, so that had to count.

Emmanuelle sighed. "Apollo, you've always been so brave with your wild ideas, but really, if someone sees you with _her _on your arm-" she paused for effect.

"Wasn't it you that _wanted _her on my arm? _You _said it was improper for her to go without an escort, remember?" Enjolras growled at her.

"Well, yes," Emmanuelle murmured, "But only for you to see what the difference is between trash and a real woman."

Enjolras looked her straight in the eye. "I think I can tell that for myself, thank you. And let me tell you something. If anyone here is trash, it's not Eponine." He turned on his heel and marched away before she could say anything else.

Eponine eyed him as he returned to her side. He handed her the water. "I'm sorry, I wasn't sure what you would like." She nodded a thank you and took a sip. Eventually, the group moved into the theater and settled down in their seats. There was no more talking after that.

The opera was _Guillaume Tell. _Eponine appeared to deeply enjoy the story, as every time Enjolras glanced over to her, she was perched on the very edge of her seat, leaning into every new aria. He almost smiled, but stopped himself. He forced his eyes straight ahead, tuned into each of the actors on the stage, instead of on the lovely girl that sat next to him.

The lovely girl that he really had missed, he had just forgotten how much.

The opera ended on a dramatic note of liberty while ringing with the undertones of forbidden love. Eponine smiled brightly at Enjolras as she stood up at the end, as though she had completely forgotten everything that had happened between them. He wished he could.

"That was wonderful," she said happily, and went on to eagerly recount her favorite parts of the story to anyone who would listen. Emmanuelle looked sickened, but Marius appeared intrigued, and Enjolras listened passively. Even Joly and Grantaire were surprised by Eponine's enthusiasm.

"Should we all get a cab?" Marius asked as they stepped out the door.

"Pardon me, monsieur, but I think I'd rather walk." Eponine said. Cabs made her nervous. Horses were unpredictable, and when they were driving everywhere on the street, things got nerve-wracking. Even walking, Eponine had nearly died numerous times due to a poorly driven cab.

Marius looked uncomfortable as Emmanuelle tugged his arm toward a cab. "Eponine, it's quite a long walk, and I don't think it's safe for you to make on your own."

Eponine shrugged. "Nothing I haven't done before, Monsieur."

"'Ponine," Marius stared, but Eponine shook her head.

"I would really be more comfortable walking." She said pointedly, then she turned to Emmanuelle. "I will return your gown tomorrow, if you don't mind. Thank you very much for letting me wear it."

Emmanuelle did not make eye-contact with Eponine. "Keep it. It's not a very nice one anyway."

Eponine would have argued, had the person been anybody but Emmanuelle.

"Good evening to you all then." She made a curtsy, and then to Marius she said, "Thank you very much for everything, Monsieur."

He smiled. "It was my pleasure, 'Ponine."

Eponine turned to go, but then Enjolras caught her shoulder. "Would you mind if I walked with you, mademoiselle?"

Eponine was satisfied by the look of disgust that highlighted Emmanuelle's face. "Yes, monsieur, I would like that very much," she said, just to drive the dagger in. The group climbed into their respective cabs, while Eponine and Enjolras began their walk.


	17. A Heart Full of Love

Eponine looked so beautiful. She had a smile on her face – still thinking about the opera, perhaps. She moved daintily in the gown she wore, as though she'd never had on anything else. He didn't speak to her for a few blocks, and he couldn't quite figure out where his thoughts were going. Eponine had this way of making him give pause, no matter the situation. As upset as he was with her bad attitude the last time he spoke with her – after he'd saved her from a trip to prison – he still couldn't help but let his mind wander. She had long ago grabbed hold of him, and it didn't seem like he would be able to let go any time soon. He thought, before, that he'd gotten over her, but now that she'd come storming back into his life, even just for an evening, the world seemed to grow larger once again. Not only was it about revolution, it was about Eponine as well.

Enjolras stopped walking. "Eponine," he said, and reached for her hand. She didn't shy from him, but her eyes were questioning.

"Yes, monsieur?" she asked softly.

"I, I don't know," he didn't quite know what to say, "I suppose I just need to tell you. I didn't realize this myself until just now, but these months that you haven't been around have been – difficult. Eponine, I don't think you understand what you meant to me, and what you still mean to me. I couldn't take my eyes off of you once this evening. I tried of course, but it was too hard. Eponine, what I'm trying to say is – oh, I have no idea what I'm trying to say." He stopped speaking and allowed for her to mull over his words. She stood in silence for a moment.

Eponine stared at him with those all-seeing hazel eyes. "You mean that, monsieur?"

He nodded. "Every word and a thousand more."

She sighed. "I am sorry for everything I did to you. It was unkind and terrible of me. I let my mind get in the way of my heart, and that's how it turned out."

"What do you mean?" He asked, not completely understanding.

She thought over her words for a moment, and then said, "Monsieur, a long time ago, I found myself falling in love with a bourgeoisie man that I knew, even at the time, would never love me. In a way, Monsieur Marius still holds my heart, and I think, always will. It is nothing I can control. However, then there was you, a man made of stone that, they say, never loved anything but revolution, being so kind and gentle to me. I caught myself thinking about you more often than I should and I was reminded of the time that I first met Marius. He was kind, too. I didn't want to fall for you too, and then feel the sting later." She said all of this slowly and carefully, not wanting to make a single mistake with her words, Enjolras noticed.

"Listen to me. I told you this long ago. Marius is a fool. He doesn't see what he has in you, and lets you hurt over him. I would _never _do that to you. I promise you, 'Ponine." He said her name that way for the first time, hoping that it would come across as a sign of affection. He wanted her to know that, if she would just let him take her into his arms, he would never cause her any grief.

She looked as though she were about to cry. He couldn't help himself. He wrapped his arms around her as she broke down in sobs against his chest. She let him hold her, and here, in the tenderest of moments, he realized just how much he cared for her. He had always been wary of such adoration until now. Until Eponine was quivering in his arms and all he wanted to do was remove all the hurt from her life.

He loved her.

He did not tell her this, and never would. He knew that it was unlikely that she would ever feel the same about him, with Marius still in her life, but her being here, sharing this moment was enough for him. He felt no animosity toward his friend, except for the pain he caused the girl. If it would've made Eponine happy, he would have gladly placed her hand in Marius', but Enjolras knew that Marius would never hold on.

"Oh, Monsieur, I feel so silly," she murmured into his chest.

He stroked her hair. "Don't feel silly. You haven't done anything to be embarrassed about."

She pulled away from his embrace now. "Yes I have." She offered no explanation and he did not press her for one. She smiled sadly at him.

"Promise me something, monsieur?" She said carefully.

"Yes? Anything." He responded eagerly.

"That I can trust you." She told him. It was not a question but a command.

He smiled and nodded. "I promise."

Eponine stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. As she did, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, wishing that he would never have to let go.

The moment was so perfect. The pair stood on the street in the darkness as the snow fell around them, lost in the embrace of the other. Together for a time, they made one being, one symbol of purity and passion. For those few moments, they both knew happiness, and although such things cannot go on forever, they held onto it for as long as they could.


	18. Little People Know

Several days went by with Eponine floating in between her own life on the streets and Enjolras'. She didn't know quite what she was doing, or why, but it all seemed like a dream to her. Life had never been so kind, nor had she ever felt like she truly belonged anywhere. Enjolras had a way of making things different for her, and, although she still had questions in her heart, she also felt something close to happiness. Of course, she was still a street urchin living in a too-cold apartment with a cruel father.

And still, Marius weighed on her mind.

Days went by where she did not think about him at all, but then she would see him while lingering outside of the café and all of her wild hopes and dreams would come rushing back. He would say hello to her, even compliment her or ask her about her life, and she would want to wrap her arms around him and never let go. Enjolras was wonderful, but Marius was so deeply engrained in her heart that it would be next to impossible for her to let go.

One rainy afternoon in late January, Eponine sat in the café. She perched herself on a barstool as the men bantered amongst themselves. Every day, the planning grew more intense, but she rarely asked what was going on. Gavroche sat beside her, staring at each of the schoolboys as though they were his heroes. He hung on Enjolras' words as he spoke to the group, but oddly enough, he also seemed to idolize Grantaire. Perhaps when he was sober, he had some clever things to input, however, that was rare. He and Gavroche, however, acted almost like brothers as they days progressed, casting playful jokes at one another more often than not, much to Enjolras' annoyance.

"'Ponine, how's everyone?" Gavroche broke into her thoughts. "Mama, Papa? Azelma? The rest?"

Eponine thought for a moment. These days, she was home even less than before. Her mother was her usual self, brash and cold and uncaring, while her father continued to abuse everyone, including Azelma, Eponine's younger sister and the two boys. Eponine herself mostly kept herself away, thinking, to this day, that Gavroche had the best idea – get as far away as possible before anyone took notice that he was gone.

"Everyone's well," she replied, not wanting to upset Gavroche, even though she could feel the bruises from her last beating pulling between her shoulders. She couldn't even remember what that one was about.

"Good," Gavroche said absently, but Eponine could tell, from the look that he gave her, that he wasn't entirely sure whether to believe her.

Eponine did not reply, but then Gavroche turned to her.

"'Ponine," he started, "are you in love with Monsieur Marius still?"

Eponine froze and stared at him. "Why do you – how do you – wait, what?" she stammered.

"Oh come on, 'Ponine, we all knew it. I was just wonderin'." Gavroche smiled comfortingly, and it took all her strength not to tell him everything she was feeling. He was still so young. He probably wouldn't understand a word of it anyway.

Eponine did not say anything, she just thought over the question herself and found that she could not answer it herself.

"Well," Gavroche said, in response to her silence, "you in love with Monsieur Enjolras then?"

This time, Eponine could not find words, she just stared at him, her mouth agape. She and Enjolras had been so careful to avoid any idea of their relationship coming into the public eye, to, as Enjolras put it, "avoid excess strain." Eponine was alright with the idea, perhaps because she still wasn't quite sure _what _their relationship was.

"Oh, Gavroche, why are you saying that?" she asked, once she'd gathered her wits.

He grinned brightly. "Cummon, 'Ponine, ya know I keep tabs on ya."

She sighed. "Must you always?"

He laughed. "Of course! So, which one _do _you love?" He questioned enthusiastically, not truly grasping the meaning of what he was asking her.

"If only it were that simple, Gavroche," she murmured, losing herself in thought once again. She adored Marius, but Enjolras was so steadfast and so hers. Marius brought a light into her world when every one before had gone out. Enjolras made sure that she was never in the dark. Marius made her feel alone, Enjolras made her feel wanted. Marius was gentle, Enjolras fiery with passion. The two of them, so sharply contrasted, could never gain ground on the other.

Gavroche studied her features. He looked out at the men in the café, Enjolras marking his map excitedly, Marius offering suggestions. The two of them stood by and talked like the old friends that they were, and while Enjolras understood Marius' position in Eponine's life, neither one of them really grasped the importance of the other to her. Of course, Marius would likely be pleased if he knew, not jealous, because he'd never desired her anyway. Enjolras would be upset, but he was strong enough to get by.

She however, could not likely endure the heartache of having to choose one of the other, or the idea of having to say goodbye.

Grantaire appeared out of the thicket of men, striding up to Eponine and Gavroche on only slightly wobbly feet.

"Gavroche! 'Ponine!" he said happily, and flung his arms around them both at once, pulling them together in a brotherly hug of sorts. When he let go, he knelt down in front of Gavroche and heaved him onto his shoulders. Grantaire danced about, laughing all the way, while Gavroche held onto his hair. Eponine smiled, and the rest of the men turned to watch. Marius gave a bemused chuckle, but Enjolras rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his map. There was no breaking his concentration.


	19. I Am Lost Until She's Found

"Eponine, Eponine," Enjolras whispered, right in her ear, "Eponine, wake up."

She gave a little jump, much to his amusement.

"Good morning," he said as she came to.

She looked at him with groggy eyes and then glanced around. She smiled when she realized that she was curled in Enjolras' bed, although a look of concern broke across her face shortly thereafter.

"You fell asleep on the sofa last night – you do that a lot. I thought you'd be more comfortable in bed, so I carried you and tucked you in. I slept on the couch instead." Her face relaxed once she was satisfied with the explanation. He offered her a cup of tea and she gladly accepted. Her thoughts kept wandering to how upset her father would be once she returned home after staying out all night, but she didn't allow the idea to dampen her spirit for long. She pulled herself out of bed after Enjolras went to the kitchen to make the tea and followed him. She stumbled into the kitchen, still bleary-eyed. She was wearing his night clothes that he loaned her, because she didn't have any of her own. He smiled and gave her a kiss on the forehead as she approached him.

"Sleep well, 'Ponine?" he asked.

She nodded.

"I didn't want to wake you, but I thought that perhaps you and I should do something today." He said.

She raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"We haven't done much, together, 'Ponine. Not just the two of us." He smiled at the idea, "I want us to do something. Please?"

She nodded again.

"Excellent."

Enjolras busied himself with the tea as Eponine watched quietly. Her eyes lingered on his hands, so fair and undamaged compared to hers, and not nearly as deft. His blonde hair fell in front of his eyes, and his full lips naturally fell into a stone line.

He turned and caught her staring. "What?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I like the way you look," she told him. She almost tacked a "monsieur" on at the end, but caught herself just before. Enjolras wasn't fond for the formalities, especially from her.

He laughed lightly, and then, walking over to her and placing both of his hands on the side of her face, said, "I like the way _you _look."

Her cheeks burned under his hands. He smiled, and she wrapped her arms around him, content for the time being. He returned her embrace and gave her a light kiss on the cheek, before turning back to the tea. The water was just beginning to boil.

"I can do that if you like," Eponine told him, suddenly realizing that it was probably her position.

He shook his head. "You are my guest, 'Ponine. I'll take care of it."

He prepared the tea, and a few moments later, the two of them were sitting on the little couch in front of the fire. Eponine curled her feet underneath herself and leaned her head on Enjorlas' shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and they lingered there for a time, comfortable and happy just to be together. Eponine studied the fire in the hearth, crackling and leaping, flighty like her own heart.

"Enjolras?" she asked lightly. She always called him by his last name. It seemed to fit him so much better than his first name, Apollinaire. She had never known him as such, so perhaps that's why she thought that way.

"Yes?" he responded into her hair.

"Do you have to go through with your Revolution?" she didn't know why she asked it, but the thought that had been in the back of her head since the day she first spoke to him resurfaced. His blood, along with all the others, smeared across the cobblestone streets. Eponine couldn't stomach the idea of that. She barely slept some nights thinking about it.

Enjolras sighed deeply. "'Ponine, if I could, I would tell you right now that I would forget about it, but I can't do that." He thought for a moment, before continuing. "I chose this path for myself, and now I must walk it. I cannot move on from where I am now and allow my country – my homeland – to live in such a state as this and do nothing. I cannot let my friends and my kin down. 'Ponine, it's not easy, but I have to do this now." He ran his fingers through her hair. She hoped he couldn't see the tears welling in her eyes. The tears were for him, and for Marius, and Grantaire, and Joly, Couferyrac, Combeferre and of course Gavroche, who would follow those men to the very ends of the earth. She imagined them all, lying in a row, blood sprouting from their breasts.

"I just wish it didn't have to be," Eponine murmured. She almost hoped he didn't hear, but he did.

"Some days, I wish the same, and others, I wake up feeling as though I was born for this. I was put here on this earth to free France. I will not back down." He said this with such force that Eponine almost believed that he was safe. His determination would carry him far, and although she doubted it before, perhaps he really would be able to rally the support of the people. She ran a fingertip along his arm and said no more.

An hour or so went by before Enjolras excitedly chased Eponine off of the sofa. She changed into the blue gown that Emmanuelle had so rudely discarded upon her, as it was still the only nice one that she had, and followed Enjolras out the door. He knew her hatred of cabs, and so they walked together for several blocks, she feeling like a lady again, on the arm of such a gentleman. Perhaps she imagined the envious looks on the faces of other women as they passed by.

"Come, 'Ponine," he said, dragging her along more quickly than she could move comfortably in the gown. She had no idea where he was taking her, and although she inquired over and over, he never answered.

The air was brisk, but not enormously cold, even for late January, but Eponine was still surprised to find herself standing in the middle of a huge park with snow still icing the ground. She opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but he was already explaining.

"Welcome, my beautiful mademoiselle, to the Jardin des Tuileries. I grew up here. As a child, my mother used to bring my sisters and I to play here all the time. Of course, it's much more to look at in the summertime, but I find it so much more thoughtful in the winter." He said all of this very gently as he thought back to his old memories, as though afraid of breaking them if he handled them too roughly.

Eponine had seen the Jardin des Tuileries before, but she'd never taken the time to walk. Mostly, she would dart through on some sort of business or another for her father, barely pausing to look around, even when the flowers were in full bloom.

Enjolras walked her through his childhood memories in the park – games of soldiers and generals with his friends or tag with his three younger sisters. He spoke so lovingly of the oldest of the three, Amédée, and Eponine was startled when he described the unbelievable likenesses between herself and the girl. He talked of how she was the one person, before Eponine or Grantaire, that was always by his side. She understood him perfectly, he said, and always knew whether to shout at him or hold his hand.

"And she looks just like you, 'Ponine, I swear it." He said, although Eponine didn't believe it.

She didn't believe it, at least, until she was looking at her own likeness standing just meters ahead of them, staring off into space, caught in some far away thought.

Enjolras froze for a moment, and then cried out, "Amédée!"


	20. Here's to Them

Amédée turned and looked around for a moment, not knowing who had called her, but when her eyes landed on Enjolras' face. Her eyes widened, and a second later, she was sprinting wildly towards him, her skirts flying behind her.

"Apollo!" she cried as she fell into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could. He buried his face into her hair, taking in her scent, the only thing that was openly different between her and Eponine. The pair held on to one another for a good long time, and when they broke apart, Enjolras still kept his hands on Amédée's shoulders for a time, studying every contour of the face he'd missed so much over the past months. It wasn't until he noticed Eponine shift uncomfortably at his side that he remembered himself again. He released Amédée and pulled Eponine to his side.

"Amédée, I would like you to meet my wonderful Eponine," he said kindly and Amédée smiled, but neither of the two women spoke for a moment. They studied one another as they would study their own reflection in the mirror. Enjolras, seeing them together for the first time, took stock of the minute differences between them. Eponine was slightly taller, and her hair a shade or so darker. Her eyes, too, were more muddy than hazel when compared to Amédée's. Amédée's lips weren't quite as full, and her chin was slightly more pointed. Eponine's nose curved to a point while Amédée's was straight. Amédée did not have the same circles under her eyes or lines on her face that Eponine did, but really the two women looked so similar they could be twins.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Eponine said finally, breaking the silence. Enjolras noticed a slight twang in her voice that he never had before, reminiscent of the streets.

Amédée curtsied elegantly. "The pleasure is all mine, mademoiselle," she replied.

"I have heard a lot about you," Eponine told her.

Amédée laughed. "Only good things, I hope."

"Only good things," Eponine agreed.

Enjolras placed a hand on his sister's shoulder. "'Ponine and I were just going for a walk. Would you like to join us?"

Amédée began to decline, but Eponine added, "Please? It would be wonderful to get to know you some."

Amédée nodded. "I would like that very much, but I cannot stay too long. Father will be expecting me home soon."

Enjolras felt a stab in his heart as he thought of the father that had disregarded him like a piece of trash, simply because their ideas did not mesh. He kept his thoughts to himself, however, and smiled brightly at the girls, who already moved ahead of him to continue the walk.

For some time, Eponine and Amédée talked lightly. Enjolras was quiet, but pleased at how well they were getting along. They asked general questions about the life of the other – nothing too personal, but not bland or dull, either. Enjolras liked to listen to them – Eponine's slightly rough voice against Amédée's graceful, bell-like one. As they walked, just a few steps in front of him, he couldn't help but think that he was, at least, at that moment, the luckiest man in the world to have this two strong, beautiful women caring for him the way they both did.

"Eponine, if I may, I don't believe I caught your family name," Amédée said after some time.

"Thénardier," Eponine replied.

Amédée studied her for a moment. "I believe I've heard that name before. I'm not sure where, though."

Eponine glanced her way. "You do not know the name in a kind way, mademoiselle. My father is a crook and my mother is a beggar and a thief. My siblings are street urchins and I, well, I have resorted to many a thing in order to stay alive." The speech reminded Enjolras of the one that she'd given so long ago in the café, after he'd paid off the police officer that was after her. Amédée studied her up and down, as though looking for a joke, but nobody laughed.

Eponine answered the question that was obviously on Amédée's mind. "These clothes were given to me. They are nothing I can afford," she explained as Amédée's eyes studied her powder blue dress.

Amédée did not judge Eponine. Instead, she smiled and said, "well, I give you a great deal of credit, then, Eponine. You have survived what many of us cannot even imagine."

Eponine seemed relieved, and Enjolras was proud of them both.

A while went by and the three of them continued to wander about the park. Amédée announced after about an hour that she'd best be getting home. Eponine said her goodbyes and then stepped away in order to give Enjolras a moment with his sister. He appreciated it.

"I'm so glad to have seen you today," Amédée told him.

"I'm glad to have seen you, as well, Amédee. It's been much too long." He embraced her, not wanting to let her go, but eventually he did.

"Good luck, Apollo," she said, "with everything. And I had better not hear that you let her go." She gave a slight gesture at Eponine.

Enjolras must have appeared puzzled, for she explained. "I know your history with women, and I know that your heart is set on your revolution, but I see the way you look at her and the way she looks at you. You need her. Don't let her go."

Enjolras nodded. "I love her, Amédée. I promise I won't let her go."

"Good," Amédée said sternly, but then laughed. "I love you, Apollo, and I miss you so so much."

He gave her another brief hug, and then a kiss on the forehead. She waved and walked toward home. He didn't know it then, but it was the last time he would ever see her.


	21. Only On My Own

The winter became spring, and Enjolras began giving his speeches in the street, Marius and Couferyac at his side. He rallied the people with his commanding voice, and they gathered around him, standing above them on a milk crate, begging them to bind together and fight against the tyranny that was in power in France. Louis Phillipe held the crown, and he lived in extravegance while the rest of the country begged on the streets. Enjolras seemed to know exactly what to say at any given moment, as his speeches varied with the moods of the crowds. Sometimes, he would give wild, fiery sermons, and other times, his voice was gentle and pleading. One thing that never changed, however, was the way that those blue eyes flamed with passion and bored into every man or woman that stood around him.

Eponine stood in the crowd at every single one of Enjolras' rallies, wearing her usual clothes and blending in with the rest of the angry poor that cheered him on. She did not shout or yell, but in her heart, she was proud – he was doing something that she always doubted he could do. The lower class was thirsting for blood because of him, and it seemed that a real revolution was firmly in the future.

"Eponine!" Enjolras kept his calm until he was only a few feet from her, and then called her name. She smiled at him, and he lifted her into his arms, pure happiness radiating from him. "It's really happening, 'Ponine!" he cried as he spun her in a circle. She chuckled lightly. He seemed just like a little boy with a new toy.

He set her down and, still with a smile plastered across his face, returned to Couferyac and Marius, who were standing just a little way away. Marius' eyes followed Enjolras, and then flicked back to Eponine. At that moment, she was reminded that he knew nothing.

It had been some while since she'd really held a conversation with him. He had grown more subdued as the talk of revolution had grown stronger, and he became less likely to seek her out. No longer did he knock on the wall outside her apartment to call her out for a walk, and when they did speak, he had little to say to her. For awhile, she thought he'd learned about her and Enjolras, but she realized that he hadn't when he cracked a joke one day about Enjolras' disinterest in women. She felt a pang at the time, almost feeling betrayed by the both of them.

Her feelings for Marius, however, she was able to put away for a time for Enjolras' sake. She chose to let her heart be loyal to him, because, she could tell, he needed someone to support him, even if he never said it. She was kind and loving. She kissed him in the morning and right before she fell asleep on the nights she would spend in his apartment – he had long since abandoned propriety and held her close in his bed. He was a comfort and he gave her somewhere safe to keep her affections. He had never given her any reason to distrust him, and he gave her reason to smile every single day.

"My 'Ponine," he whispered in her ear one morning. She gave a little grunt as she awoke. She realized quickly that she was not in her own bed, and reached her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. At that moment, she had the strangest thought. This man, so strong and brilliant, adored her with all of his heart, and she – could she possibly? – loved him.

For a time, Enjolras shared with her every thought that flitted into his head. He spoke quickly and excitedly about all of the new developments at the café, and she listened, but rarely put in any input, as she didn't ever quite know what to say. Eventually, however, his conversations with her grew shorter and more distracted. He spent more and more time with the men, particularly Couferyac, and less time with Eponine. She tried her best to keep up with him as often as she could, and convinced herself that she was happy. He was still kind, of course, and she found herself longing for his hand in hers or her arms around his bare torso as she slept. He did not deny her a moment of time that he could offer her, but his time was growing less and less. Even when he was at home with her curled against his side on the sofa, he had a map or notepad out and was scribbling furiously. He would put it down the second that she asked, but she could always tell that he was itching to get back to his work.

Eponine did not begrudge him any of it. As a matter of fact, his passion inspired her, and his love, not only for her, but for France, was a beautiful thing to witness. In a way, however, she found her heart wishing that she had him more often.

She had heard women complain of being lonely, but she barely knew what that was, since she'd spent her entire life lonely. It was a feeling she was more used to than anything else, and she'd been adept at pushing it away, until she'd met Enjolras and let him into her life. He'd changed everything, and made himself integral in every part of her being. The more he was gone, the more she wished he'd come back.

One particular evening, Eponine curled up in Enjolras' bed, completely alone. She wore his nightclothes, as she always did, and waited awhile for him to come home, but the minutes ticked by, each one longer than the last, and that's when it all made sense. He adored her, but his heart truly belonged to the revolution, and she would never have him unless he emerged victorious. If not, he would be gone, either in body or in spirit. He could easily die for his plans, but, should he fail, his spirit would be crushed, and he would no longer be the same man.

Eponine was acutely aware of Enjolras kissing her in her sleep, but she did not pull him closer as she generally did. Instead, in that moment, she pulled herself away, knowing that hope was no longer hers. He was a good man, but beside him at that time, she did not belong.

The pain of walking out the door was worse than anything that she'd ever had to endure. He slept so soundly, his gentle face pressed against his pillow, his arm still outstretched across the spot where she laid a moment before.

She left the bedclothes on the sofa with a little note written as best she could with a shaking hand.

_Enjolras,_

_I go, not for me, but for you. Not because you have been unkind or untrustworthy, but because I know that your heart is with France and not with me at this moment, and I do not wish to be a burden upon you. I care about you deeply, and I pray that you and I may have an opportunity to be together again someday, but there are things that must be done first. You know where to find me, and I will never ignore you should you call, but I beg of you, Monsieur, just let me go for now. It is what is best for both of us._

_Yours,_

_Eponine_

Enjolras held the letter in his hand, shaking as he fought to hold back tears. He was a strong man, but this, this was too much even for him. He'd lost her once, and when he got her back, he vowed that he'd never lose her again.

If only he had told her. Three simple words, and perhaps she wouldn't be gone. He would have told her a thousand times over if he thought it would make a difference, but somehow, he knew that she was right. His heart _did _belong to France. If there was no freedom, there was no world for him to love her in.

Still, he could not allow himself any sort of mercy for making her feel unloved or second best. Eponine was his everything – the one person that was constant and unchanging. The one person he could count on, and he let her go.

"Eponine," he whispered to his empty apartment, "don't leave me." He finally allowed the tears to spill over. A moment later, however, he forced them back and set his resolve.

If he wanted Eponine, he would owe her his all, and his all would only be available if he were to succeed, so he could not fail. He would have his Eponine back.

He would never let her go again.


	22. Pretending He's Beside Me

"'Ponine, you're crying," a voice rose over her sobs. She was curled on a park bench, clutching her knees and weeping into her skirt. She looked up and Monsieur Marius was standing there. She sighed and wiped her eyes.

"Bonjour, Monsieur," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

He sat down beside her and wrapped his arms around her much too thin body. "What's wrong, my 'Ponine? What's happened?"

She shook her head. "Oh nothing, monsieur. Just silly things." She wondered if she should tell him the truth, but she didn't see what purpose it would serve, other than to scare him off, and when he held her, she felt herself praying that he wouldn't let go. He was still so at home in her heart, even after everything. She was able to let him go for a time, but the moment she let him back in, he was there to stay.

He stroked her hair. "Oh, 'Ponine. Do not cry. Nothing is worth your tears," he whispered.

She buried her face into his chest and let her tears run into his jacket. He smelled so comforting, and he was so warm. He held her like that for a long while, rocking her back and forth almost subconsciously.

"'Ponine, what's troubling you?" he asked again after awhile.

She didn't say anything, and he didn't question her again.

"Marius," she murmured after a good while, "please don't let go,"

"I won't," he told her, but of course, he eventually did. He sat there on that little bench for nearly an hour, just holding her, but even the most perfect things come to an end. He sat her up and brushed the hair out of her face. A stray tear lingered under her eye, but he brushed it away with his thumb. She gave a weak smile.

"It will all be alright, I promise," he said kindly. "You know I'm always here, right?"

She nodded, although she didn't truly believe it. Marius was so fleeting, in and out of her life, and she knew that he would never really see what she felt for him.

"Look at me, 'Ponine." He put his hand under her chin and turned her face up to his. "I won't _ever _desert you. You're the truest friend I have."

She wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself against him for one final moment before he pulled away for good. "I have to go now, 'Ponine. I'm sorry. I'll be at the café if you need anything, alright?"

She nodded.

"You promise you'll come find me?"

She nodded again.

"'Ponine, promise?" he said with a little more force.

"Yes, I promise," she replied, but in her heart, it was already a lie.

He kissed her on the forehead as a goodbye. Chills ran through her body. She prayed that he couldn't feel them. He tipped his hat to her and walked off into the setting sun. She watched him go, wishing she could run after him. She imagined herself for a moment, hand in hand with him, loving his gentle, easygoing nature as compared to Enjolras' fire.

She walked alone for a time, thinking about so many different things. The man she left behind in the middle of the night and the man that considered her his best friend but would never really love her. The two of them held her heart in such different ways, but she could have neither one of them. There was no love in her life, nor happiness anymore. She wanted to blame the revolution that those foolish schoolboys were planning, but really, it had nothing to do with that. She was alone in every sense of the word, and no revolution could change that. Happiness was not hers to have - only sorrow, regret, and loss. The loneliness would never break. No matter how much she hoped, she knew that was the truth.

The saddest part of it all was the fact that she did, indeed, still hope.

She hoped that Marius would one day see the light and take her into his arms, but at the same time, she prayed that Enjolras succeeded, waving the flag of revolution high. Only then could she be free.

The real story, however, would be so much different than her dreams. Of that much, she was certain.


	23. Find Her For Me

"Eponine, take the watch!" Thénardier snapped roughly at her. The entire gang was there, waiting for his cue. Madame Thénardier held a squash wrapped in blankets in her arms and clothing more ragged than usual. Thénardier walked up to anybody who looked like he had a little bit of change in his pocket and said, "Monsieur, spare a franc? See, my wife and child ain't eaten today." Every now and then, a gentleman would toss him a few coins, and he'd pocket them greedily. Eponine kept her eyes open, looking for any sign of trouble.

"Eponine? Is that you?" Marius appeared out of the crowd, a smile on his face.

"You always run into me at the worst times, Monsieur," she told him.

He chuckled. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, nothing really, Monsieur," she said, trying to keep looking around without looking suspicious.

Marius, however caught her gaze and followed her eyes to her father, standing just feet away, pleading with a well-dressed man in a top hat. Behind the man stood a girl, blonde and perfect – everything Eponine was not.

"Monsieur, spare a coin?" Thénardier begged. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, but before he could hand over any money, Thénardier said, "Wait! I know you! You're the bastard who bought Cosette!"

"Are you mad?" The man shouted.

Eponine's thoughts were spinning. When she was a child, her family ran an inn in Montfermeil, a town a few miles outside of Paris. Back then, she was her parents' favorite. One day, a haggard woman had appeared at the door, begging for a place for her daughter to live. The Thénardiers took the little girl in, a scrawny blonde creature named Cosette, in exchange for a monthly fee. Cosette worked and wore rags while Eponine and her sister, Azelma were dressed in the best their parents could afford. Thinking back, it was a miserable existence for little Cosette, but then one day, a gentleman came and whisked her away with a flick of his checkbook, and that was the last Eponine saw of her. Her family's inn went bankrupt soon thereafter, and they were forced into Paris to beg.

Staring at the blonde girl a few meters before her, there wasn't a doubt in Eponine's mind that the girl was Cosette. She had grown beautiful while Eponine had grown haggard. How the roles had been reversed.

Suddenly, Eponine spotted the blue uniform marching through the crowd – police.

"Get gone, you! It's the police!" Most of the group scattered, but Thénardier did not get away before the officer – the infamous Javert, known among the low class as a man who would arrest his own mother to protect the peace – was upon him.

"What is going on here? What is this commotion all about?" Javert shouted at the crowd. He placed a hand on the gentleman's shoulder and said, "Don't worry good monsieur, I'll have this all sorted out." He rounded on Thénardier, never looking at the gentleman's face, and the man grabbed Cosette's hand and trotted down the street.

"You, Thénardier, I should have known you would be here, stirring up trouble!" Javert stared Thénardier down for a moment and then turned, saying, "Monsieur, I apologize. This man is a - " but he stopped speaking once he saw that the gentleman wasn't there any longer.

"Where did that good man go? Why would he run?" Javert asked nobody in particular.

Thénardier got close to Javert, but still spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. "You'll have a job catching him. He knows his way in the dark, that one. And the girl that follows him so close, used to be my girl. He stole her from me."

Javert's eyes widened. "Could it be? Jean Valjean?"

Thénardier put a hand on Javert's shoulder. "How's about we forget this little squabble. You remember I am the one that told you so."

Javert looked at Thénardier for a moment, and then said, "Everyone, about your business," and a moment later, he was gone, back the way he had come.

Eponine could barely breathe. The shock of seeing Cosette again was more than she could handle.

"Eponine," Marius said, returning her to the world, "Who was that girl?"

Eponine shrugged. "Some bourgeois creature. Worthless." She murmured.

"Find her for me!" Marius said excitedly.

Eponine froze and stared at him. "What?"

"You must find her 'Ponine!" he grabbed her shoulders and looked at her with desperation, "I am lost without her. I have never felt like this before."

Something inside Eponine broke in that instant. Marius was standing there, begging her to find the piece of his past that she thought was behind her long ago. She suddenly felt about half an inch tall. Her heart was snapped in two, and she could barely speak when she replied, "What will you give me?"

"Anything," he replied dramatically, thrusting his hand into his pocket and offering her a handful of coins.

She shook her head. "No, I don't want your money, monsieur," she told him, and walked away, leaving him standing there, all on his own.

She would find Cosette, because it would please him, but why, she didn't know. She felt lost every moment that he was gone, and now, there wasn't even the smallest hope that he would ever be hers. As she walked down the street, tears began to sting her eyes.

_Eponine, did you ever think that he would be yours? No, you knew that all along. Now he'll be happy, and you won't. Simple as that. _The thoughts came at her harshly, and stung her deep inside. There was no world left for her without Marius. Not even one in which Enjolras held her, for she shut that door behind her as well.


	24. Rebellion Ablaze in Their Eyes

"Enjolras!" Couferyac tore through the door, breathless, "Everything is ready at Notre Dame and Rue de Bac! I've made sure! Students, workers, everyone! A revolution is brewing!"

Enjolras clapped him on the back and nodded. Couferyac took a seat next to Grantaire, who promptly offered him a glass of wine. He gratefully accepted.

"The time is near, now," Enjolras told everyone, "it is time for France to let go of the relics of tyranny and rise up again!"

The boys clapped, beginning to feel the fire of revolution in their own hearts. Enjolras opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by the door swinging open again. Marius entered, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Where the hell were you?" Enjolras growled at him.

"You don't look so well, Marius! Come have a drink!" Grantaire added.

Marius sighed. "I'm sorry. I was – distracted," he said distantly, walking toward Grantaire, who proffered a wine bottle. Marius took it and swallowed a swing.

"How were you _distracted?" _Enjolras demanded.

Marius stood in silence for a moment, hunting for words. "The most beautiful woman in the world," he replied awkwardly after a time. As soon as he said it, his cheeks turned a flaming red.

"This is unbelievable!" Grantaire cried, "Marius doesn't _swoon! _She really must be the most beautiful woman in the world!"

"He's in love!" Combeferre shouted.

Joly laughed merrily and clasped Maris' shoulder. Grantaire wobbled wildly in his chair, a grin plastered across his face. Even Couferyac, Enjolras' right-hand man, seemed moderately amused. Enjolras glared at them all, and over the laughter and the jeering in Marius' direction, he shouted, "All of you! This is not a time for games! There are more important things to attend to, so if you could _please _focus!"

"Cummon, Enjy!" Grantaire yelled out, much to Enjolras' annoyance, "Just because _you _don't want to bed a woman doesn't mean that the rest of us have to give it up as well!" This was answered by a second round of applause.

Enjolras waited for a moment for them to all calm down, and then said, as calmly as he possibly could, "If you are going to stand with me, decide with me now. This is not a game, this is the fate of our country hanging in the balance. We can change the world and build a new world."

For a moment, the entire café went silent, taking in Enjolras' words. Marius walked over to him and said, "I'm sorry, Enjolras, but if you had seen her today, you would understand. I couldn't breathe when I saw her there. You would have fallen for her, too."

Enjolras thought to say that there was only one woman he would ever love, but now was not the time, nor the place. They could jibe at him all they wanted for his lack of a love life, but his heart would always belong to Eponine, whether they knew it or not. "Marius," he said calmly, "you are a good man, and I know you mean well, but there is a higher cause now. I understand how you feel, trust me, I do."

Marius did not reply. Enjolras stepped forward and addressed the entire room. "_This," _he said, waving his hand around the room to encompass them all, "is bigger than any one of us on our own. Our little lives don't mean a thing. There is a duty we have sworn ourselves to, and we will see it done."

In a show of sudden patriotism, Grantaire stood and removed his hat. He threw it in the air and yelled, "Vive la Republique!"

"We rise against the tyranny!" Couferyac added.

"We will _never _be slaves again!" Joly cried.

Enjolras felt a sudden pride rise in him, but his train of thought was broken when the door slammed shut behind him. He turned to shout at another latecomer, but found himself staring into the face of Eponine instead. He froze, and for a moment, they locked eyes. He hadn't seen her since the night she disappeared, leaving the note for him to find in the morning. His heart told him to go to her, right there, in front of everyone, and tell her that she was the only thing he wanted, but his head stopped him. Instead, he gave her a little nod and turned away.

Marius jogged across the café and put his hands on Eponine's shoulders.

"Have you found her?" he asked excitedly.

"Yes, monsieur. Number fifty-five, Rue Plumet." She replied. Enjolras did not look at her, but he could hear the hurt in her voice. Was it possible? Was she in love with Marius again?

"Take me there?" Marius said pleadingly. She must have nodded, for the door opened and a moment later, clicked closed again.

Enjolras tried to distract himself from the hurt he was feeling so suddenly. "Couferyac, do we have the guns we need?" He asked sharply.

Couferyac nodded. "It's all taken care of, Enjolras. Twenty muskets, brand new."

"With the stench of alcohol on my breath, I will breathe them all to death!" Grantaire shouted.

Enjolras had it. He marched over to Grantaire, and yanked the bottle of wine out of his hand. "Put the bottle down, damnit! You don't need to be drunk all the damned time!" he shoved Grantaire's chest. Grantaire, off-balance from his alcohol already, toppled backwards in his chair and landed with a great thud on the ground. Some of the men jumped forward and picked Grantaire up again, while others laughed merrily.

Out of nowhere, Gavroche's voice rose above the rest, "Listen! Listen everybody!" he cried. The café went silent.

Gavroche looked around at every face before saying, "General Lamarque is dead."

"Lamarque?" Enjolras questioned. Gavroche nodded. Enjolras turned to the room. "Lamarque was the only man who ever spoke for the people. Now, his death is the sign we need! At his funeral, they will honor him, and the people will grieve. In that grief, we will light a fire of rebellion! They will rise for Lamarque, and they will rise for the republic! Together, we will fight and we will free France! It begins on Lamarque's funeral day!" Enjolras said all of this as forcefully as he could, and realized that it was all coming together now. The rebellion was about to begin. No more questions or wondering, no more anticipation. Just blood and sweat and honor.

They would raise the banner high.


	25. He Never Saw Me There

Eponine walked ahead of Marius by a few steps, speeding down the criss-crossing Parisian streets as though a map of them were printed on the back of her hand. Marius trotted eagerly after her, like a dog or a cat or something, with a giant grin on his face. She felt like stopping right there, spinning on him and screaming every thought she'd ever had about him, but with the way he was swooning, she knew it would do her little good. More likely, she'd just never see him again.

_Damn him, _she thought bitterly, trying to disguise the hurt in her own heart under a mask of irritation, but it wasn't working well. She still felt as though he'd stabbed her or shot her right in the gut. The pain was physical, tearing at her bones and her flesh. Her blood felt trapped inside her body, as though it wanted to flow onto the pavement through all the holes that had been torn into her. Marius seemed so happy, while Eponine walked a few meters in front of him, loving him with every breath he took.

"'Ponine, you really are the best friend I've ever had," Marius said, pulling close to her side. She gave a weak smile, but did not reply. She turned a corner in the fading light and took him down a dark alley. She watched as his hand went to his belt – no doubt he kept a knife – but she moved along unfazed. She'd been there a thousand times before, and mostly things went fine if you looked like you were minding your own business. Marius, however, looked like a fool, glancing around in his bourgeoisie clothes, grappling at a knife. Yet another example of how those schoolboys knew nothing of the streets. She sighed and kept walking. He followed and they emerged from the alley unscathed. Marius relaxed as soon as the streets became more open again.

"Must you always take such dangerous routes?" Marius asked her.

She shrugged. "They're only dangerous if you don't know where you are."

He looked at her. "Even you can't sneak through all the time. You should be more careful."

Again she didn't respond. She knew what he was referring to – the time that Enjolras had rescued her from a potential rape situation in a dank alley. She didn't want to think about that day. _What the hell do you care anyway?_ She thought, and part of her wanted to say it, but she kept it to herself.

Marius followed her for another quarter of an hour in silence. When she turned onto a street labeled with a sign "Rue Plumet" his face lit up and he practically floated after her.

Number fifty-five stood just in front of them. She pointed.

Much to her surprise, he hugged her. "'Ponine, how can I ever repay you? You are the friend that brought light into my world!" She smiled, but inside, she broke further. He released her after a moment and walked toward the house, leaving her standing there, all alone.

Alone, just like she'd always been.

She watched him go, tears pooling in her eyes. The falling darkness disguised her well, and Marius himself seemed to forget that she was there once he was pressed up against the garden fence, whispering.

"Mademoiselle, are you there?" he murmured quietly. Leaves and plants rustled, and her face came into view behind the wrought-iron bars. Her face glowed in the evening light, porcelain white, surrounded by a shroud of white-blonde hair. He smiled as though the entire world had come into view for the first time.

"Dear mademoiselle, forgive me for intruding. I couldn't help myself. I have thought of nothing but you since I saw you earlier today. I – I –" he paused, fumbling. "Oh, mademoiselle, forgive me, I don't even know your name. I am making such a fool out of myself, aren't I? Oh, for shame!"

Cosette shook her head. "No, monsieur, do not fret. I remember you well. I never expected that we'd meet again. This is a gift from God."

With Cosette's words, Eponine's final hope was shattered. She'd prayed that perhaps Cosette would scoff, send him away, become frightened at his brazenness, something – anything. But of course, she didn't. Eponine swallowed hard and mentally prepared for the next words that would pull Marius even further away from her.

"My name is Marius Pontmercy," Marius said, offering her his hand.

She took it and replied, "And I'm Cosette." A smile came across her face.

"Oh, Cosette, I can't think of any words. I am lost," he stammered.

"And I am found," she reached through the bars and let her fingers linger on his face for a moment. Eponine watched, wishing she could spring forward and slap Cosette's hand away.

"Mademoiselle, you are so lovely. Please, I have nothing but love to offer you, but I _can _offer you that. I offer you all of my heart, mademoiselle. Do you accept?" Marius looked at Cosette with an unbelievable longing in his eyes.

Cosette paused for a second, thinking. "Yes," she finally said, "I accept."

Eponine no longer listened. She couldn't take it anymore. She let herself fall to the ground, frozen in time. There was nothing left for her. The walls were closing in around her, and she couldn't remember where she was or why – or even how to breathe.

Marius and Cosette talked for some time more. The ring of Marius' voice caught Eponine off guard. Even if she couldn't hear what he was saying, the timbre of his words struck her, and she was left with a longing for his voice in her own ear. All the beautiful things he was saying to Cosette, he would never say to her. Never in a thousand lifetimes would he love her at all. The tears flowed now, as hard as she had been trying to fight them back. She was nothing to her Marius, nor would she ever mean anything to anyone. Her life had been one giant mistake after mistake. Day followed day of pain and sorrow and loneliness, no matter what escape she tried to find.

She thought back to the only escape she ever _did _manage to find – Enjolras. He had picked her up off the ground and held her until she didn't feel quite so worthless. She wished she could have one last moment with him, just so she could feel that little flitting sensation in her gut – was that what happiness felt like? He, too, would never want her again either. She'd only done what she had for his sake, but that afternoon when she saw him, his clear blue eyes were icy and so different from how she remembered them. There was nothing but contempt for her in his heart now, she knew.

And Marius clung to Cosette's hand through the iron garden fence.

Was there really no end in sight?


	26. Ponine, Saving the Day

Eponine sat by for some time, trying her absolute best not to listen to Marius and Cosette, but it wasn't easy in the slightest. She had, for so long, hung on Marius' every word that it was habit to hear everything he said. Relief came sweetly when Cosette's father's voice echoed across the garden. She gave Marius one last smile and hurried to her father, who then escorted her back inside after a backward glance into the garden. He did not see Marius kneeling there, next to the fence.

Marius stood, and upon spotting Eponine, smiled broadly. "Oh, Eponine, you've been here this whole time! She's so wonderful 'Ponine! And you, you are the friend that brought me here! I am in heaven! How can I ever repay you?" He threw his arms around her and pulled her close. She returned his embrace absently.

"No need to repay me," she said, refusing to let herself bury her face in his chest like she so wanted to.

Marius released her. She almost smiled at how happy he looked. _At least one of us is, _she told herself.

"Thank you, 'Ponine, thank you!" He kissed her on the cheek. A moment later, he was tearing off down the street without so much as a goodbye. Eponine sighed and watched him go. She wondered what the chances were of him making it home at all, as foolish as he was on the streets. And now he was practically dancing about. The fool.

Eponine turned to go, wanting to leave the memories of fifty-five, Rue Plumet far behind her. As she did, though, she saw a burly man slinking down the street. She recognized him immediately. His name was Montparnasse, and he was one of her father's chief henchmen.

"'Parnasse," she called. He spotted her and approached. When he came near, she said, "What on earth are you doing out here?"

He smiled wickedly, revealing a mouth full of rotten teeth. "This house," he said, pointing at number fifty-five, "We're gonna take care of it tonight! Rich man, got a lot of money."

Eponine's heart leapt to her throat. She nodded, and turned to go again, not particularly caring, nor wanting to interfere, but then it dawned on her. If the house were robbed tonight, by her father's gang, Marius would think she was part of it and he would never forgive her.

"No, no, you can't, there's nothing here. It's a waste of your time, I assure you," she tried, but Montparnasse shrugged.

"Take it up with your ol' man," he told her, pointing at the now-approaching Thénardier.

Thénardier shouted, "'Parnasse, who the hell's the girl? You're supposed to be on the job!"

Montparnasse glared. "It's Eponine, you fool! Don't you know your own kid?"

"Oh, Eponine," Thénardier said, looking her over, "you're not needed here. Go home."

She was feeling frantic inside now. "No, father, really, there's nothing here. I know this place. It's just an old man and his daughter. They don't have anything good."

Babet, another member of the gang who was standing a step behind Thénardier jeered, "Goin' soft, ain't ya Eponine?"

"Get home, Eponine," Thénardier shouted at her, giving her a shove.

She steeled herself and snapped, "I'm gonna scream! I'll warn them you're here!"

Thénardier's face flushed with anger. He grabbed her by her collar and whispered, just under his breath, "You'll regret it, I tell you!" He released her and she gave him a look that could kill. For the first time, she was ready, not only to help Marius and Cosette, but to contradict and bring down the man who'd made her life a nightmare.

"I warned you didn't I?" she said with a smile. She screamed at the top of her lungs.

Thénardier looked around frantically. "Make a run for it!" he ordered the group, and then turned to Eponine. He took her again by the shirt and flung her backwards. She fell to the ground and her head connected with the concrete, sending her spinning into blackness.

Eponine came to at the sound of rustling plants in number fifty-five's garden. She crawled a few feet so she wouldn't be seen. A moment later, Cosette appeared, her pale face shining in the moonlight. Tear-tracks stained her face. She tucked a note into the fence, and, even in the dark, Eponine could read the name written on the outside – Marius. When Cosette disappeared, Eponine slunk forward and took the note out of the fence again. She opened it quickly and read:

_My dearest Marius,_

_I never thought I could feel this way about someone so quickly, but you have entered my life, and now I know what it is like to love. You have come, and I have found my peace and my happiness. However, Marius, my heart breaks to tell you that my father is taking me to England, in four day's time. There was trouble in the streets tonight, and he has made the decision to flee from the shadows of his past. I do not know what frightens him so, but I do know that I will have to say goodbye to you, Marius, and that is a pain I cannot endure. We will go to our apartment on the Rue de Calais, he says, and then take a ship across the sea. Marius, my love, I am so sorry and I wish, with all of my heart, that we would have had some time together, but it cannot be, it seems. Please, Marius, come find us before we depart. I know that if my father sees how I love you, he will change his mind. Please do not abandon me. I love you._

_Yours,_

_Cosette_

Eponine jammed the letter into her pocket, remorse and sorrow coursing through her veins. She would take the letter to Marius, of course, because that seemed to be her duty. He must be happy.

But then an idea struck her. If Marius did not get the letter, Cosette would go to England. She would be gone, and perhaps Eponine could have her chance after all. Perhaps there was hope after all.

Perhaps, however, is a fickle, fickle word.


	27. How Can I Live When We Are Parted?

Enjolras paced back and forth and back and forth again. The sound of his boots against the wood floor rang out through his otherwise silent apartment. The anticipation of what was to come burned in his heart – General Lamarque's funeral was to be in two day's time. The banner would rise then, and so would France. He was ready, ready for it all, but one thought burdened him. He would gladly die if it meant that France would have her liberty, but death seemed so frightening if he were to face it without a chance to say goodbye to the one woman he'd ever given his heart to.

Eponine.

She was so far away from him at that moment. Somewhere in Paris, she probably darted through the streets like a thief in the night at that very moment, but a thousand miles could have separated them and it would have made no difference. She wasn't his any longer, and he had a feeling that, even if he went to her, she would turn him away. But it had been so long since he'd held her in his arms, felt her thin bony frame against his. One more moment couldn't be so wrong, could it? Could he ask for something so small?

_Oh, Eponine, if only you knew what I feel, _he thought. If she would have him for one more day, he could die in peace. He would welcome it, even, because his life would be complete.

He told himself that it could never be, that he would have to go on without her, but the idea was too much, even for a man made out of stone. A moment later, before he could even stop himself, he was pulling his red jacket on and tearing out the door. He was halfway down the street before he even realized that he had no idea where to look. He stood there in the street, feeling lost.

He walked a few blocks, aimless and alone, before he remembered that Eponine had once mentioned that her family lived across the hall from Marius in that awful apartment building. Enjolras broke into a sprint, and then skidding to a halt outside of the building, breathless and sputtering. He descended four flights of stairs equally quickly, and beat on the door that stood just across from Marius'. Inside, he heard the scraping of chairs against the floor and a voice saying, "If that little pest thinks she's coming back here –," just then, the door swung open, revealing a thin, devilish-looking man with a curly mop of red hair and a long face – Monsieur Thénardier.

"Can I help you, Monsieur?" he asked, looked Enjolras up and down.

"I was looking for Eponine. I was hoping that you could tell me where she might be." Enjolras said, beginning to feel a little anxious at the hungry look on the man's face.

The man looked confused for a moment, but recovered quickly. "Ah, yes, my dear Eponine! Come in, Monsieur! She will be back soon!"

Enjolras smiled, but said, "I think I'll just wait here for her, but thank you kindly."

The man shook his head. "I insist!" he cried, "you are a friend of Eponine's, and therefore a guest of ours."

Enjolras resigned. He walked through the door, feeling glad that he left his wallet at home, but more than uncomfortable that he'd also forgotten his knife.

Monsieur Thénardier sat Enjolras down at the table, and Enjolras was acutely aware of a pickpocket's touch to his jacket, but he had nothing, so he pretended that he didn't notice. He smiled the most seemingly-genuine smile he could as Madame Thénardier set a plate of food down in front of him. It was absolutely rancid, but he picked at it anyway, commenting periodically on how good it was. Madame Thénardier blushed more than once.

The time went by slowly, Enjolras carefully fielding the questions Monsieur Thénardier asked. So many were about his friends or family, where they lived, what they did for a living. Enjolras was, in some small way, impressed, because they were all flawlessly masked, and if he hadn't expected them, he would have easily fallen prey. After a time, however, he could tell that Thénardier was growing irritated, having gotten nowhere with his questions. He kept commenting that Eponine would be around soon, but Enjolras eventually stood and announced that he had to go. Eponine wasn't coming, he knew.

But just as he stood to leave, the door swung open and Eponine bounded inside in a flurry. She said quickly, "I'll only be a moment. I wanted to get my –," and then she froze. She stared at Enjolras for a time, taking him in as though she didn't recognize him.

"Oh, Eponine, this good monsieur was here looking to see you," Madame Thénardier chimed from across the kitchen. Somehow, unlike her thievery-driven husband, she had seemed to take a liking to Enjolras, perhaps because of the fake kindness he showed her. As he stared at Eponine, though, not knowing what to say, the woman slunk over to his side and ran a hand across his shoulders. "He really is a _lovely _man, Eponine." She crooned.

Suddenly, Eponine jumped forward and grabbed onto Enjolras' hand. "Let's go," she said quickly.

Enjolras, surprised, didn't know quite how to react. He followed Eponine out the door and gave Madame Thénardier a little nod.

A good way down the hall, Eponine stopped and wheeled on him. He braced himself for the angry speech he was about to get, but she didn't speak for a time. She studied his face, letting her hazel eyes to search his blue ones. "You came back," she murmured finally, after some time.

"Of course," he replied, "staying away was the hardest thing I ever had to do."

She nodded knowingly.

"Eponine, you were right. My heart wasn't in the right place, but I know now that I can't go into this revolution without spending a final few moments with you. I can't take the idea of dying without ever having said goodbye."

He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into him, their bodies meshing like two puzzle pieces. He placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to his. Before she could protest, his lips were against hers. She didn't pull back, but wrapped her arms more tightly around him. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Such passion flowed between them. Every word that they never said flowed directly from one heart to the other. A flame burned between them that was so different than the ones that burned in each of their own hearts. Together, they were something incredible and beyond all reckoning. Together, they would never die.


	28. One Day More

The morning came too quickly. Eponine slept in Enjolras' arms, her face pressed against his bare chest. Before, she had laughed when he'd told her how he hated sleeping with a shirt on – it was terribly uncomfortable, he'd said – now, though, she appreciated it. It was one less barrier to separate them. He was asleep when she woke, his stone face relaxed and young. There was no sign of worry or pain, and his lips curled slightly upward. She reached a hand up and traced a line across his brow, his cheekbones, his jaw. For that moment, he was hers and only hers. When he woke, he would again belong to France.

She didn't wake him, but he came to not long after she did. "Goodmorning," he whispered in a raspy, sleep-filled voice.

She smiled softly, still studying him. His blue eyes pierced her, right to the soul. "Goodmorning," she replied.

He sat up and pulled her into his lap. She curled against him willingly, and he stroked her hair. Part of her felt self-conscious – she hadn't washed it in some time – but he didn't seem to mind at all. He played with little strands, running them through his fingertips. How could a man with so much fire in his heart come to be so gentle?

"Eponine," he said softly after some time, "Thank you."

She rolled in his lap so she could see his face. "For?" she questioned.

"For not leaving me standing there last night like a fool. For not telling me to get lost. For letting me have this last bit of time." He said all of this so quietly that she could barely hear. She looked into his eyes and saw that he was fighting back tears.

She pulled herself upright and took his face into her hands. "Don't thank me. I never could have said no."

He smiled. "I'm just so glad that I got this chance. One day more with you."

She shook her head. "It's not one day more. You can't think that way."

He sighed as she pressed her face against his shoulder. "I have to think that way, Eponine. There's no other way _to _think about it. Death would be so much more frightening if I didn't expect it."

"You can't die," she whispered.

"Would you be mine if I lived?" he asked.

She thought for a moment, so many different thoughts piling into her mind, all at once. She thought of herself on his arm, loving him, being his, for the rest of her life. It was a comfort, a hope. But then Marius' face appeared in her thoughts. She forced it away, not wanting _him _to taint this moment. "Yes, of course," she told Enjolras, hoping that she was making the right choice.

Somehow, he sensed the lack of decision in her voice. He was good at that. He always could read people. "It's alright, Eponine, I know."

"What?" she looked back up at him again.

"I know your heart doesn't belong to me," he murmured.

Her throat seemed to seize up, and for a time, she could make no sound. She simply stared at him, forced to watch the pain fill his eyes. "That's not true," she finally managed to choke out. It wasn't a lie, either. Her heart was in two places at once. It belonged to both of them, which, in her eyes, was so much worse than not caring for Enjolras at all, because it gave her two opportunities to lose something she held dear, instead of just one. If they both died at the barricade, in this damned revolution, there would be nothing left of her. She would die, too.

"Eponine." He said her name, letting it hang in the air between them. He was in pain, she could tell. She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. He responded, pulling her close to him and kissing her back with more passion than he ever had before.

* * *

She was feeling things that she never had before. Her thoughts were running in crazy tangles, not letting her make heads or tails of any of it. She pressed herself against him, not ever wanting him to slip away. They were together – two bodies and two hearts meshed into one.

"Don't ever leave me, Eponine," he whispered.

"I won't," she told him, "so long as you promise the same."

For a moment, he was silent. "I can't do that, I'm sorry."

His words struck her hard. Death was so close to him. It was practically calling his name, and they both knew it. Time was a cruel thing. "Don't go," she said.

He thought this over for a moment, but she knew the answer before he even said it. "I have pledged myself to this. I cannot back down now."

Pride rang through his voice. Passion and love for France, too. She nodded against his chest and settled herself to it. He would go, and she would suffer for it. They would all go – Marius, Grantaire, Courferyac, Joly, Combeferre. They would all go, and many of them, even in victory, would not return.

She said a silent goodbye in her heart to all the faces she had come to know and kissed Enjolras again.


	29. They Will See the People Rise!

Enjolras stood at the edge of the street, leaning against a red flag. He'd folded it creatively so as to not arouse suspicion, but every schoolboy's eyes were on it. He could hear the funeral procession drawing near, and his heart hammered against his ribs. One wrong move and they would all be dead right there. He watched, standing on the tips of his toes, ready to spring forward when the time came. The funeral procession rounded a corner and a pair of great black horses hauled General Lamarque's coffin behind them. Horsemen road at the front and back, and national guardsmen on foot brought up the rear, guns on their shoulders.

Enjolras waited, feeling time breathing down his back. The horse-drawn coffin was drawing nearer.

_Wait, _he thought.

_Wait._

_Wait._

And just as the black horses drew even with him, he sprang forward into the street, right in front of them, and waved the blood red flag high. The horses balked and danced backward, while the schoolboys poured onto the street, each with a flag of their own. Courferyac climbed up the side of the funeral carriage, Marius leapt to Enjolras' side. The national guardsmen stumbled about, not quite sure what to do.

"Vive la République!" Enjolras cried, turning back and following Courferyac up the side of the funeral carriage. He climbed to the top and stood high above the people, waving the red flag of revolution. Cheers and screams both abounded.

Enjolras looked at every face, every man that stood there in the streets. Every one of them had followed him here, ignoring the consequences.

"Vive la République!" he shouted again, and this time it was met with a reply. Every one of the boys from the café echoed his sentiment, and more than a few others. The fire of revolution had been lit at last.

A shot rang out, and with that, the real fight had begun. Enjolras and Courferyac scrambled down from their perch, and as their feet hit the pavement again, they sprinted down the street, Enjolras waving the flag behind him. The rest followed suit, and together, they tore through the streets of Paris to the café on the Rue de Villette. Enjolras shouted orders, barely processing what he was saying himself, and a barricade began to take shape. Tables and chairs were thrown to the street from the buildings above, and the café was cleared. Anything that could hold off the national guard was used, and soon, a great wall of wood stood in front of them all. Courferyac passed out guns that had been cleverly hidden in the café, and bags of ammunition were handed to every man.

As a group, they breathed in. Now, the real fight would begin.

"Here we have built a barricade!" Enjolras cried as the men fell into their planned positions, "In the heart of the city we claim as our own! Do not be afraid! Have faith! Now, I need a report on the strength of our foe!"

Out of the crowd, a man stepped forth. "I was in the militia as a boy! I can find out their plans!"

Enjolras nodded. "Thank you," he said to the man, "make haste!" And the man was gone in the blink of an eye.

"We stand with you, Enjolras!" Courferyac cried. "What will you have us do?"

Marius shouted, "Let them come with all their forces!"

Enjolras almost smiled. "Have faith and do not be afraid!"

"Let's give 'um a screwing they'll never forget!" Grantaire announced, and several men chuckled.

"It begins here!" Combeferre raised his flag high.

Courferyac stepped forward to Enjolras' side. "If I should die in this fight to be free, then so be it!"

Cheers rang out and Feully added, "Let them come if they dare!"

The men seemed to have found their faith, but on the other side of the barricade, an army officer appeared. He shouted, "you at the barricade, listen here! Nobody is coming to help you to fight! You're on your own! Give up your guns or die!"

Enjolras looked at the men around him. "Damn their warnings, damn their lies! They are frightened! The people will rise!"

His sentiment was answered with a shout of "Vive la République!" Gavroche appeared through the crowds. He smiled at every man climbed to the top of the barricade. Nobody tried to stop him. He was one of them as well. He had every right to be there, and in his spirit, more so than anything else, they found faith.

"Vive la République!" he called again, and the men repeated his words back to him.

_Let it begin, _Enjolras thought to himself. _Let it begin here._


	30. A Little Fall of Rain

Eponine slipped down the side streets, wearing stolen boy's clothes and a hat to cover her long hair. The barricade was drawing near. She slipped through the national guard lines, pressed against the walls. They waited, just down from the barricade, guns at the ready for any opportunity. As Eponine drew close to the barricade, she heard a voice – a child's voice – cry out, "Liar! I know this man, everyone! His name is Inspector Javert!"

The voice was Gavroche's. Eponine's heart skipped a beat. What the hell was he doing here? She knelt down and listened.

Gavroche continued. "Don't believe a word he says!"

Another voice announced, "Bravo, Gavroche! You really are the top of the class!" It was Grantaire.

Combeferre yelled, "What are we gonna do with this snake?"

Eponine's heart broke when she recognized the next voice. "Take him to the tavern and let the people decide what to do with him!" Enjolras ordered.

Shouts rang out. "Just shoot me now!" someone cried – Javert, "I renounce your people's court! I renounce you, every traitor!"

Grantaire answered him, "What's the difference, dying a traitor or dying a spy?"

"Enough!" Enjolras shouted. "Take him out of here! There is work that must be done."

The scuffle died down and Eponine made her move. She jumped onto the barricade, and scurried up the side, chairs and tables shifting beneath her feet.

"A boy, there's a boy climbing the barricade!" Joly's face appeared over the top. Soon, Courferyac and – here her breath caught – Marius were also peering over at her. Marius climbed forward to give her a hand, not recognizing her right away. He stood at the very top of the barricade, hauling her upward. Eponine looked over her shoulder, and only then did she realize what a target she was. A national guardsman was sighting in his rifle, his finger trained on the trigger. The shot rang out and Eponine leapt forward, slamming into Marius.

"No!" she cried, just as a searing pain tore through her back. She and Marius tumbled down the opposite side of the barricade. He caught her just before she hit the ground. Her hat had fallen off, and Marius' face fell when he recognized her.

"Eponine! What are you doing here?" he demanded, but then his face went white. Eponine could barely draw breath. It was agony.

"No, no, God, Eponine!" Marius stammered, panic in his voice. The blood from her back was pooling onto the cobbles. Everything was growing foggy and her veins felt like they were on fire.

"Joly! Somebody! Help!" Marius cried, but Eponine reached a finger up to his lips with the little bit of strength she had.

"Hush, Marius. Don't worry, I'm not in any pain," it was a lie, but it felt necessary. She continued as he pulled her into arms. "I'll be fine. You're here to protect me."

She felt a raindrop on her cheek. More followed, and soon the rain was pouring down, washing the blood off of the cobbles and the dirt off of her face. There, in Marius' arms, she began to feel at home. It was the first – and last – time he would ever hold her.

"Oh, 'Ponine, you will live! Oh, dear God, you will live!" Marius ran a hand over her forehead.

"Just hold me now and let it be," she murmured to him, "shelter me."

"I won't desert you, 'Ponine. Never." The words were kind, and she could already feel the pain fading. Marius was here – all was well. She smiled. All the suffering was coming to a close now. Death was coming to her, but she did not fear it. It seemed to be opening its warm arms to her. The rain was washing away all those terrible memories, all the evils that she had known.

"I will sleep in your embrace, at last," she whispered, her voice cracking. She could barely see now. Blackness was taking over.

"Oh Eponine," Marius whispered, "I'm here."

"Don't worry, Monsieur Marius, I don't feel any pain. This rain won't hurt me now."

"Hushabye, dear Eponine, you won't feel any pain. All is well," he almost sang the words.

"You will keep me safe," Eponine said, and then, as an afterthought, she reached a hand into her pocket. She pulled Cosette's letter out and offered it to him. "I kept it from you. I'm sorry." He took it and placed a hand on her cheek, saying nothing more about it.

"I will stay with you until you are sleeping," he bent his head down close to Eponine's face. She could feel his breath against her skin. He was here. Cosette was nothing now. She had him.

The dark was closing in now. She let herself look upon Marius' face one last time, but just as she felt the end coming, she turned from him, and a few feet away, she saw Enjolras standing, jaw tight and fists clenched, face contorted with agony. Gavroche and Grantaire stood by his sides. Her hazel eyes met his one last time.

Only then, when it was too late, did she realize that, all this time, she'd been making a horrible mistake. Enjolras was the one – the only one she would ever belong to. She reached a hand toward him, but Marius caught it, thinking it was for him.

"I love you," she whispered for Enjolras, but only Marius heard her. He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. The blackness took her and everything became warm again. All the pain was gone and she was at peace.

**(A/N) I'm sorry everyone who was begging me to let Enjolras and Eponine die together. When I started writing this, I promised that I would stay true to the original story and only edit what was going on beyond the scope of the musical, so I couldn't let myself change Eponine's death. I promise, though, there will be some more heartfelt Enjolras/Eponine scenes to come. Thank you for reading and please, continue to be so supportive. You guys are great!**


	31. The First to Fall

Enjolras heard Joly's shout. "There's a boy, a boy climbing the barricade!" He heard the shot, he watched Marius and the boy tumble backwards. And then he saw the blood, and the boy's hat flying off.

He saw Eponine.

_Oh, god, oh god no. _His thoughts were running in circles. He wanted to run for her, but he saw her in Marius' arms and knew that she was where she wanted to be. She had never really belonged to him, no matter how many times he tried to tell himself that she did. He stood there, helpless, as the rain began to fall and Eponine's blood flowed onto the cobbles. He could see her speaking, telling Marius something. He could see Marius smiling and brushing the hair from her face as the rain fell like tears. Enjolras shook, his breath barely coming. He was watching her die, and there was nothing he could do.

"I love you, Eponine," he whispered. He never thought he would have to say goodbye to her like this. She was in Marius' arms, bleeding, slipping away, and he couldn't even tell her goodbye. He couldn't kiss her one last time. He couldn't let her know what she had come to mean to him.

Grantaire came to his side and gave his shoulder a squeeze. He looked at Enjolras knowingly. Just behind him, Gavroche appeared, tears stinging his eyes as his sister died. He reached and squeezed Enjolras' arm, and together, the three of them watched Eponine and Marius. Enjolras only made it through with their support.

Eponine handed Marius a note, and Marius kissed her on the forehead. She turned her eyes to Enjolras, and in that last moment of her life, his eyes met hers again. In that glance, he felt her warmth and her love, touching his soul more deeply than anyone ever had before. Her eyes fluttered closed and she was gone. Enjolras' world was collapsing down around him, but he steeled himself. He could not break with all of these men depending on him. They looked to him, and he must remain strong. If he broke, they all would, and Eponine's life would be lost in vain.

He breathed in hard and walked over to her. "She is the first of us to fall," he said, kneeling beside her and clasping Marius on the back.

"Her life was cold and dark, but she was unafraid," Marius murmured, tears running along his cheeks.

A number of the other men had gathered around.

Combeferre said, "we fight in her name."

Jean Prouvaire, the youngest of the men, stared at the ground. "Her death will not be in vain."

Lesgles, the only working man among them, announced, "she will not be betrayed."

Enjolras pulled Eponine into his arms, as though he didn't even know her, and carried the body into the café that stood only meters behind them. He settled her down on the floor in the corner, as there were no tables left and pulled her close to him, finally allowing himself to break. He stroked her hair, still warm.

"Oh, god, Eponine," he whispered, "Why? I am so sorry, Eponine. This is my fault. All of this is my fault. If it weren't for me, you would still be alive. If it weren't for this damned barricade -," he couldn't finish. He broke down in sobs and wrapped his arms around her. He wept into her hair, every ounce of pain coursing through him at once. Nothing in the world existed anymore. She was gone and so was everything else. _He _was supposed to die, not her. Not here, not now. This wasn't the end. It couldn't be. He had to wake up from this nightmare before it consumed him.

"You really loved her, didn't you?" Gavroche's voice rang through the empty café. Enjolras hadn't even heard him approach.

He nodded as Gavroche sat down next to him.

"She loved you, too." Gavroche told him. He nodded again, words refusing to come.

"Thank you for taking care of her. Papa was so bad to her, and Marius didn't care about her. I was the only one she had before you came along. I never saw her so happy as she was when she was around you."

Enjolras looked at the little boy, shedding his own tears for his sister. The pair sat in silence for a time, each of them reflecting on their own love for Eponine. Together, they formed a family of sorts for her.

Enjolras looked at Gavroche and vowed in his heart that he would protect the boy. Gavroche was all he had left of Eponine now, and even if Enjolras himself died, at least Gavroche could live and carry on her fond memory. There was nobody else who could. There was nobody else who loved her as much.


	32. Come to Me

A short skirmish with the national guard brought Enjolras running out of the café. A few men on both sides fell, but it was over quickly. The dead were carried away and placed in a row, next to Eponine. Enjolras couldn't help but wonder if he would lay among them as well. A sniper had nearly brought him down earlier, but a man dressed in a national guardsman uniform fired against his own and saved Enjolras' life. Part of him wasn't even thankful.

The night came too soon. Enjolras had ordered the men to stay awake, but it wasn't something that he was cruel enough to enforce. He, himself, dozed a bit, on and off.

Eponine came to him in his sleep. She wore a pretty blue dress – not the same one that she'd worn to the opera, a simpler one that highlighted her instead of drowned her. She touched his face and he reached for her hand. She held it close to her chest, and kissed each finger.

"Is this a dream?" he asked her.

"Yes, but that does not mean it is not real. I am here, and I will remain by your side until the end." She told him with a gentle smile.

"Marius -," he murmured, but she cut him off.

"In life, I was mistaken. In death, I know the truth. Know now, Enjolras - my Apollo - that it was only ever you." She knelt beside him and ran her fingers through his golden hair. Her touch was warm. She felt so alive.

"Why did this happen?"

"Because we are not in control. God takes and gives to us, each in our turn. He took this time, but know this. He will give to us again." Eponine placed her hands on his shoulders and he pulled her close to him.

Enjolras smiled, comforted for that moment.

"Enjolras, do not lose faith," she told him, "do not give up."

He nodded, "I won't, I promise."

"I will watch over you when you wake," she said, kissing him on the forehead.

He looked at her, such longing filling him. "Don't go," he pleaded.

She looked at him, and for a moment, he was struck again be her all-knowing hazel eyes. They could see right through to his soul. "I won't. Even when you cannot see me, I'll be by your side."

She was fading now.

"Eponine," he whispered. "I love you."

She nodded knowingly. "I love you too. And I always did. I was a fool and just didn't see it." She leaned forward and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. He wanted to kiss her back - to never let her go - but he could already feel her slipping through his fingers like fog. He grabbed hold of her hand until she disappeared and he was back in the dark, lying on the cobblestone Parisian streets.

He picked himself up and Gavroche came running. "Monsieur Enjolras, there are no other barricades."

Enjolras thought he didn't hear correctly. "What?"

Gavroche repeated, "There are no other barricades. We're on our own. We're the only ones fighting."

The dawn was breaking over the city. The black sky turned red, and then pink. Enjolras sat in silence as the men sat around him, some asleep and others restless. After a time, Enjolras stood. He called out to the men, "the people have not stirred. We are abandoned by those who still live in fear. Let all those who wish to go from here." The words burned his throat. He had failed and he knew it.

The men looked around at one another, but not one of them moved.

"How do we stand on ammo?" Courferyac asked, breaking the silence.

Feuilly answered him, "we have plenty of guns, but the rain wet the powder."

Marius chimed in, "there are bodies in the street! I'll go! There's dry powder and plenty of ammo there!"

Enjolras shook his head, knowing that, if he let Marius go, he would be sentencing his friend to death. The national guard stood in wait. "No, Marius, it's too much of a chance."

The man that had rescued Enjolras from the sniper the day before shouted, "I'll go! I am old. My life is spent."

Gavroche bounded for the barricade, yelling back to them as he went, "you need somebody quicker! They'll never catch me!"

Grantaire lunged forward to follow, but Combeferre caught him around the waist. "Let me go! Let me go! Gavroche! Come back!"

But Gavroche did not heed Grantaire's call. He slid down the front side of the barricade and stepped into the street, brazenly facing a dozen gun barrels, all aimed for his chest. He knelt down and pulled an ammo bag off of a dead soldier and threw is back over the barricade. None of the men retrieved it. Instead, they watched in horror.

"Gavroche, please!" Grantaire begged. Gavroche smiled and took another ammo bag. A shot rang out, piercing a wooden dresser just to Gavroche's right.

"See?" Gavroche said, "I told you they wouldn't hit me!"

He darted from body to body, until his arms were full of ammunition and powder. Another shot rang out. This one found its mark.

Gavroche fell to his knees on the pavement, blood pouring down his front. Grantaire let out a wail and Enjolras felt another stab of failure in his heart. He'd failed Eponine again.

Gavroche laughed. "You won't catch -," another shot pierced through him and he fell backwards onto the cobbles. Grantaire sprang over the barricade, and nobody stopped him. He stooped over and picked up Gavroche's little body, just as he had so many times before. This time, however, he would not spin him around or joke with him or let him ride on his shoulders. Grantaire lifted Gavroche's corpse back over the barricade, not even thinking about the possibility that he might be shot, but no bullets flew. Perhaps even the national guard realized the evils of what they had done.

Gavroche's body was placed next to his sister's. Enjolras and Grantaire knelt by them both, and the rest of the men began to lose faith. Gavroche, their hero, was gone. A little boy had died.


	33. Chains Will Never Bind You

"You at the barricade listen to this! You have no chance! Lay down your guns or die!" The army officer stood at the front of his men, offering them one final opportunity to live. Enjolras looked across at all of the schoolboys that had stood by him. Courferyac shook his head. Grantaire tipped his hat.

In response to the warning, Enjolras climbed to the top of the barricade and waved his red flag. "Vive la République!" he cried.

"Cannons! Bring the cannons!" a shout sounded from across the lines. Enjolras leapt back to the ground. Courferyac handed him a rifle and he took it. "Aim for the right!" he shouted to the men as they scrambled up the side of the barricade, guns in hand.

"Ready, fire!" Enjolras ordered, and the shots rang out. Smoke billowed across the barricade, giving the illusion of fog across a graveyard. _May God be with us, _Enjolras thought, and then he shouted, "Fire at will!"

The shots tore through the lines of the national guard. Men in red and blue fell in pools of their own blood.

"There are more men! More men Enjolras! Fifty, at least!" Courferyac called. The men were falling, but more were coming to replace them. The cannons were hauled forward, and Enjolras watched as the balls were loaded.

"Fall back! Fall back from the barricade!" he screamed, and the men dove away and covered their heads as the cannon shots pierced the air. Many, however, did not escape. Enjolras watched in horror as his men – his friends – fell to the shrapnel or the cannon balls. The barricade was nearly disintegrated in moments, and dead lay all across the ground.

The national guard then opened fire. Both sides shot back and forth, but the schoolboys were severely outnumbered, and many of them had never held a gun before, so their shots were off the mark. More and more died.

Enjolras fired and his bullet pierced the national guard officer right between the eyes. It was a feeling of satisfaction, but it only lasted a moment. The guardsmen were closing in, bayonets affixed on their rifles. They crossed the lines of the barricade and fought at will. The boys didn't stand a chance. Enjolras felt Grantaire at his side. Around him, his men were beating on the locked doors of the apartments that stood above them, but not a single one opened. The people of Paris had abandoned them. They had written their deaths long ago.

Enjolras tore through the open door of the café. "Follow me!" he ordered, and most of the men that were still living followed behind. Grantaire hugged his side. Courferyac appeared and brought up the rear. Combeferre, too, was still alive. Somewhere out on the pavement, Joly, Lesgles, Feuilly lay in the blood. They were with God now.

Enjolras pointed up the stairs and his little group of survivors made for it just as the national guard began to flow inside. Enjolras used the butt of his rifle – now without ammo left – to knock down the stairs behind them. He knew it wouldn't hold the guard off indefinitely, but perhaps it could buy them some time. Grantaire screamed. He'd been hit, and blood spouted from his leg. Enjolras dove to his side, but he urged them on. The other three tore down the hall on the second flight, praying for an escape.

Gunshots rang out somewhere beneath them, and Enjolras watched Courferyac and Combeferre collapse. He sprinted on, leaving their corpses with a silent nod. He hit a dead end, however as he turned into an open room. He stopped and stared out the window that stood just above the café door. The bodies littered the street below, and the ground was wet with blood.

_Here, at the end of all things, I have no fear. _He thought. He stood and waited, knowing that the national guardsmen were on his tail and it wouldn't take them long to catch him.

Another voice entered his thoughts, as though it were part of him. _Come to me, where chains will never bind you. _Eponine.

_Yes, Eponine, I am coming. I am ready._

Enjolras turned his back to the window just as a dozen men entered the room. He stared them down, waiting. They raised their guns.

Just in that moment, though, Grantaire hobbled into the room. He held no weapon, but in his hands was the red flag. He limped toward Enjolras and the men let him pass.

"My friend," he said, offering Enjolras the flag. Enjolras took it. Grantaire turned and faced the guardsmen just as they repositioned their rifles.

Enjolras, in one final act of defiance, raised the flag above his head. Eight bullets pierced through him and his body fell out the window behind. His knees hooked over the railing, and he hung there, red flag streaming across his body like the blood that poured from his wounds.

And with that, a revolution died.


	34. To Love Another Person

"Mama!" Amédée shouted, tears choking her voice. She collapsed next to her brother's body and pulled him into her arms. He wasn't yet entirely cold. Her mother came running to her side, and she, too, fell into a fit of sobs. The two women held one another and their fallen kin, and together, they were a fragment of a family, just like all the others around them.

Amédée studied her brother's face. Someone had closed his eyes after he died. His expression was calm and pensive, lacking the iron that it had in life. She brushed a bit of dirt off of his brow, wanting to try and remember him before all of this. He was the strongest, most driven man she had ever known. He was brazen and short-tempered, but there was so much kindness buried deep down in that guarded heart of his. She remembered how he would take her for walks when she was a child, and if ever she fell in a game, he would rush forward to pick her up again. One time, she cut her leg open on a rose thorn in the Jardin des Tuleries, and he had knelt down and wiped the blood away with his sleeve. When she winced at the pain, he gave it a kiss and asked, "better?" He had been there for her no matter what. He was her shoulder to cry on, her warmth when she couldn't find any other. He was her everything.

And then her father had sent him away. They had had a disagreement at the dinner table once when Apollo was visiting for an evening, and the next day, her father told her that she wasn't to search him out or speak of him again. He was no longer her brother. She never forgave her father for that, and now, she knew that she never would. Long ago, she realized that Apollo's ideas would most likely be the death of him, but she had supported him nonetheless, knowing that he would never be happy otherwise. Not having the chance to say goodbye, though, that was different.

"Do you think he felt any pain?" Amédée asked her mother, looking for some small bit of comfort. Both of their eyes went to his chest, ragged and bloody and full of bullets. The answer was there before them.

"He is with God now," Madame Enjolras said, brushing a hand through her son's hair. She looked at him with such an unbelievable sorrow. Amédée had never, in all her years, seen her mother so broken.

Amédée stood and walked down the row of bodies, not able to bear the site of her brother's corpse anymore. She looked into every dead boy's face. Some she recognized as friends of Apollo's – Combeferre, Couferyac, Joly – and others were completely new to her. A little boy, no more than ten, lay on the ground with a bullet hole in his chest and a little star pinned to his breast. Amédée stared at his cold face for a time. When she turned away, she saw something that made her heart skip a beat. Her own likeness lay there next to the little boy, stone cold. She studied the girl for a moment before she remembered.

Eponine.

Amédée knelt down next to Eponine and took her hand. "Thank you for taking care of him," she whispered to the dead girl.

"Amédée? Who is that?" Madame Enjolras appeared over her daughter's shoulder.

Amédée looked up at her. "Her name was Eponine."

"How do you know her?" Her mother asked.

Amédée stumbled over the memory, thinking about the time that she'd seen her brother in the Jardin des Tuleries a few months before. He had seemed so happy when he looked at Eponine. His face lit up and the whole world seemed to appear before him. Amédée remembered being jealous for a little bit, but then she had realized that her brother had finally found peace.

"Apollo loved her," Amédée said simply.

Madame Enjolras stared at her daughter and then the dead girl, and then back again. "He did find someone then?"

Amédée nodded. "She was off of the streets, but he loved her more than he'd ever loved anyone. I saw him a few months ago with her, and it was obvious. I think he would have married her if he'd been given the chance."

"Married a street girl?" Madame Enjolras questioned.

Amédée nodded. "He didn't care, Mama. You know that. He loved Eponine, and it was pure and beautiful. There was nothing beyond innocence between them. I could tell. I know – knew – him better than anyone."

Madame Enjolras bent over beside the dead girl and kissed her on the forehead.

"May God bless you, Eponine," she whispered.

Enjolras and Eponine never had to say goodbye. Madame Enjolras saw to it that the girl was buried next to her beloved son, after she had been unable to find Eponine's true family. She blessed the girl with all of her soul, for being the one who gave her son a touch of hope and love. She knew nothing of their true story, but she liked to pretend that she did and that they had been happy. She would have welcomed Eponine into her home, street girl or not, purely for that reason. Enjolras had been such a distant, driven child, and was equally so once he grew into an adult. She had admired him deeply for his passion, but she'd worried for him too. She thought he would never find anywhere to put that passion outside of his revolution, but even in his death, she was glad to find that she had been wrong.

What she didn't know, though, was that Eponine had saved Enjolras' spirit. She had raised him up. She had been his shelter and his comfort, and in death, their souls would never be parted again. They were together for eternity, connected across the ages through happiness and love.


	35. Author's Note

Do you hear the people sing  
Lost in the valley of the night?  
It is the music of a people  
Who are climbing to the light.

For the wretched of the earth  
There is a flame that never dies.  
Even the darkest night will end  
And the sun will rise.

They will live again in freedom  
In the garden of the Lord.  
They will walk behind the plough-share,  
They will put away the sword.  
The chain will be broken  
And all men will have their reward.

Will you join in our crusade?  
Who will be strong and stand with me?  
Somewhere beyond the barricade  
Is there a world you long to see?  
Do you hear the people sing?  
Say, do you hear the distant drums?  
It is the future that they bring  
When tomorrow comes!

Will you join in our crusade?  
Who will be strong and stand with me?  
Somewhere beyond the barricade  
Is there a world you long to see?  
Do you hear the people sing?  
Say, do you hear the distant drums?  
It is the future that they bring  
When tomorrow comes...  
Tomorrow comes!

May Eponine and Enjolras live on.

**(A/N) Thank you so much to every reader who has been so supportive of me through this project. It means the world to me, and I couldn't have done it without each and every one of you. The support is what let me finish this, and I hope that you all enjoyed it. It was hard, but definitely rewarding to write. I was feeling really terrible there at the end, and I so wanted to change the story, but I couldn't bring myself to edit something so beautiful as Les Misérables. The beauty in it is the sadness. I really hope I did it justice.**

** - Ella**


End file.
